The belated Bealltainn post...

It's been a quiet month, blogwise here, mostly because I've not been up to much up until recently, and partly because I started writing this post and then kind of forgot to finish it... But as far as the "not being up to much" part goes, I'm making up for that now that I'm a little more mobile. And I have a new macbook to play with! I'm still trying to remember the old shortcuts for everything...

But Bealltainn came and went without much of a hitch. We had to spread things out a little, but there was the requisite cleaning and tidying, followed by the churning and feasting, baking and eating, offerings, devotions, saining, and the making of charms:

We also collected some dandelions from the garden to make a posy:

And that became part of an offering to a nearby rowan when we collected some of the wood.

Thanks to my drug-addled brain convincing me that there are in fact 31 days April, we were a little slow off the mark and most of our celebrations began on the day instead of the eve, but that didn't seem to impact anything negatively; if anything, it gave me more time to myself to get things done while the kids were at school. Somehow, in spite of all the planning and preparation, these things always seem to manage to sneak up on me, anyway...

For our feast we had some roast lamb, which I was intending to serve with some bannocks; I didn't quite have the energy or strength to make them at that point, so the bannocks came a day or so later with some stovies for dinner; I made two lots, one a Fife bannock, one a Brodick bannock. The Brodick bannock is still my favourite:

And best laid plans and all that, but we haven't yet managed to obtain a tree (or raised pond), although we now have a picnic table for the patio (although of course, since we got it it's rained nonstop). We're still intending to get a tree, though it may be a little too late in the season now, but as I've improved, physically, I've managed to get out and about a bit at least. On my travels a few weeks ago the hawthorn was just about to come into flower:

And now its bloom is in full swing. The bluebells are on the wane now, but there's been plenty of it along with the wild garlic, which is extremely fragrant:

And the red campion is starting to come out in full bloom, too:

After the loss of our favourite wooded area to logging a few months ago, my travels have gone further afield to find a new spot:

It's a little less remote and peaceful, but beautiful, nonetheless, and there are lots of little wooden bridges over streams that flow into the burn, and plenty of waterfalls:

On my way home, the dogs and I stopped in at the beach to make some offerings to Manannán, a sort of belated Bealltainn visit which has unofficially rounded off the celebrations. All in all, I got just about everything I wanted to do done, although I didn't succeed in involving the kids as much as I'd like to have – my drug-addled brain's fault, really, but still. Hopefully our Midsummer celebrations will go more according to plan.

Spring in the woods

Not being up to much lately, I took pity on the dogs yesterday and dosed myself up and hobbled out to the woods to see if the bluebells are out yet. It's my favourite time of year when the woods are awash in a carpet of blue(ish), so it's something I always look forward to and come hell or high water I'll get out and enjoy it dammit. And being the caring sharing type, I took some pictures to put on here...

The bluebells seem to be a little late this year (compared with previous years, anyway), but they are indeed just starting to come out:

This is from the woods right behind my house, which gets pretty boggy in places, and I think I found some marsh marigold as well:

Or, in Gaelic, lus buidhe Bealltainn, the yellow plant of Bealltainn. Tempted though I am to go back and pick some to hang above my front door for Bealltainn, I've been brought up to think that picking wildflowers is Bad, so I'll leave them be. Way back when we first moved here I'd hoped to get some for the garden, but I couldn't find any at the local garden centre, which is a shame. But as the almost unfurled flower there shows, summer is very nearly here.

Along with the bluebells and the budding marsh-marigolds, the ferns are starting to unfurl, too:

Over the mild winter we had, it seemed quite a few of the ferns lasted a lot longer than usual in the more sheltered spots around the village, but the cold snap at the start of the year killed them off. Soon they'll be back again, trying to take over my flower bed.

Along with the ferns and the bluebells, there's a smattering of wood sorrel (again, I think...) here and there, hanging around in clumps at the foot of trees:

Our walk yesterday started off sunny, then came the April showers. It's good for the garden, at least; we've had some beautiful weather lately and things have started to get a little parched. Not usual for round here at all!

And then we have some golden saxifrage, which seems to like hugging the side of the woodland paths wherever the bluebells and ferns take a break:

There's not much else in flower yet, but there's plenty of fungus around, helping the dead wood rot down:

Just as I did a year or two ago, I'd like to get back into learning more about the local flora and the rhythm of it as the months roll on. Learning more about the bioregion, as it were, to keep in touch with the place. If I get anything wrong then please let me know!

Stuff and things in the garden

As Bealltainn approaches I've had a mind to get the house and garden ready. For once, I'd like to be on top of things instead of having to do a mad dash at the last minute. Seeing as the garden's been somewhat neglected in recent years there's been a fair bit to do...

Oscar, Exhibit A:

Is something of a digger. So in spite of my initial plans to plant some vegetables this year it seemed a little pointless seeing as the remainder of the grow bags I've been using are now in something of a state -- age and Oscar combined have had their way. So instead I've decided to recycle the remainder of the compost and try to condition the soil in the flowerbeds a little, and try to save the few strawberry plants that have miraculously clung onto life after Oscar rehomed them on the ground. I managed to mow the lawn without breaking myself as well, which is no mean feat for me.

Things are a little overgrown in the flowerbed so I've tried to tidy things up a little without overdoing it. Which mainly involves throwing compost over the weeds and pretending it's all neat and tidy now... But the raspberries, blueberries and blackcurrants seem to be springing to life again without my help, and while the primroses seem to have suffered somewhat, the cowslips are blooming:

The rowan might be blooming in time for Bealltainn this year:

After a trip down to England to visit my sister and her family, Rosie's decided we need a pond like they have (but BIGGER), so instead of replacing the veg containers we might concentrate on that instead -- a raised pond (we don't have the soil depth to dig a proper one, and I don't envisage Mr Seren going outside for any length of time to dig one anyway. The sun. It burns the precious...). There's a rush plant that needs rehoming, and we could put some other plants in as well, with some sturdier pots planted with some bee-friendly plants to give some foliage around it, perhaps. Hopefully it will give a nice outdoor space for devotional work, too, although Rosie's already had the idea that instead of a pond, per se, maybe we could just recreate the whole of the well at Kildare in our garden...

Or something like it.

Umm. No. Much as I'd love that, it's a little beyond our budget.

But after discussing things with the kids, we've decided we want to put in a new tree as well. A fruit tree, like a plum tree. When I was a kid, I grew up in a house with a pretty big garden that had been part of an orchard before the houses were built there and we had a champagne apple tree, two Victoria plums, a yellow plum (that I can't remember the name of) tree, and a damson tree (or bush?). Every autumn we'd fill up bags and bags with the plums from the tree and we'd end up giving them away because we had more than we knew what to do with. Sometimes people would come into the garden at night to steal them... But I miss having that (the fruit, not so much the thieves), and the kids like the idea of free fruit. So why not.

So big plans are ahead, tidying the garden has been continuing apace. And it was all going so well until Exhibit A decided to join us on a walkies when he wasn't invited -- I was supposed to be taking Tom to Judo and Oscar shot out of the house as we were about to go. After running half way up the road and having a sniff around inside someone's garage (the owner was very understanding, thankfully), we managed to corner him and grab him by the collar, and I had to carry the wee sod back home. My back is none too happy about this, although on the upside I have some lovely drugs making me feel extremely relaxed right now. On the downside, I was supposed to be doing my civic part in a few weeks time by serving jury duty and I'm having to excuse myself now.

So it seems that Bealltainn will probably be a simple affair for us again this year. I was planning on doing a roast lamb with some bannocks and a bit of veg and we were going to churn some butter, make some decorations and rowan charms, sain the house, maybe get a tree in time to plant it. The minions kids will be able to help a bit more now so we'll see just how much we get done.

Links and things for Bealltainn...

Now that Bealltainn is officially less than two weeks away, I thought I'd do a round up of some bits and pieces that you might find useful if you're looking for some inspiration, or an idea of what the hell it is!

First off, last year I did a video for Gaol Naofa's Youtube channel that gives a good introduction:

And if you want to do some reading for a more in-depth view then you might find the two-parter I did on Tairis a while ago useful:

• Bealltain Part One
• Bealltain Part Two

There's also a piece on Celebrating Bealltainn, and a short article on Rowan and Red Threads with a ritual for hanging the charms as well.

Over on Gaol Naofa, there are some songs and ideas for Bealltainn crafts. The songs include:

• Thugamar Féin An Samhradh Linn
• Tiocfaidh An Samhradh
• Thig, A' Chuinneach, Thig

The latter link is a churning song (with links to a few others), since churning butter at Bealltainn is an important activity. Bannocks and caudle also form an important part of the celebrations (in Scotland), and you can find more information, along with some good reads about Irish customs, at the following links:

• Beltane Bannocks at the Carmichael Watson Project
• Festival Bannocks and Caudle
• Caudle Recipe
• Traditional May Day Customs

There's also a wealth of poetry relating to the coming of summer that can provide inspiration and make a nice addition to celebrations and devotions:

• Laa Boaldyn
• Summer Has Come
• Song of Summer
• In Praise of May
• Seasonal Quatrain: Bealtaine
• The Old Woman of Lia Nothain

New videos!

Back in March, my colleagues and I at Gaol Naofa worked on producing some videos for our new Youtube channel. Those first two that we did focused on St Patrick's Day, and our intention from the start was to continue on with videos for other festivals in the Gaelic year - ones that are ancient in origin like the quarters days, as well as the more modern ones like Hogmanay and Là na Caillich.

Yesterday, on Tynwald Day - the Isle of Man's national holiday (which is usually on July 5th, but it moves to the following Monday when it falls at the weekend), and we released a bunch of new videos to go with the two St Patrick's videos we've already done. These are (and forgive me for regurgitating the list I already gave on the Gaol Naofa website...):

Lá Fhéile Bríde:

Detailing the lore and traditions associated with the festival that marks the first flourish of Spring.

Là na Caillich:

The Day of the Cailleach in Scotland, which falls on March 25th and marks the beginning of the Cailleach’s rest period, until she reawakens in winter.

Bealtaine:

Focusing on the traditions and customs of the festival of Summer.

Midsummer: Áine and Grian:

Introducing the Midsummer traditions in Ireland, and the issue of solar deities in Gaelic tradition.

Midsummer: Manannán mac Lir:

Taking a look at the Midsummer tradition of “paying the rent to Manannán mac Lir, which originates on the Isle of Man.

What we want to do with these videos is give a short introduction to each of the festivals, and hopefully articulate a sense of some of things that we can't always do with words alone. We're working on some other videos for another bunch of the festivals, which will hopefully be ready for release soon, and then we'll work on finishing the rest of the festival year as and when we can. And I'm sure we'll find plenty of things to talk about after that! 

Before I finish, I'd like to take the opportunity to thank everyone who helped me and Kathryn while we were putting these videos together - helping us source pictures or giving us permission to use their own, helping us find music we could use, offering feedback, and generally being wonderful and supportive. Mòran taing!

Bealltainn and bluebells

Summer is here!

Even though the winter and spring were really mild, summer's been slow to get started around here. Finally, though, we have the bluebells:

Which I think are one of my favourite parts of the year – when they come out you know the summer is right around the corner (such as it might be in this climate!). 

And here in these parts we've started the season with some especially welcome news – just as the kids and I were preparing to celebrate Bealltainn, we got word that Mr Seren's latest freelance job, which was originally only supposed to be two days (two months ago now), is pretty much confirmed as a long-term gig, which will (hopefully) make life a bit easier. Touch wood.

So we started things off on a positive note. Rosie was really excited about Bealltainn this year because she enjoyed our celebrations at Là Fhèill Brìghde so much, but she was disappointed that we wouldn't be making another dealbh Brìde and inviting her in. She decided that maybe if she made an offering Brìde might come anyway, so put something out for her and asked me to help her with what to say. The kids have asked to start learning Gaelic so we've been going over the basics – verrrry slowly. I walked her through a simple greeting and thanks as she put the offering out in the garden, then she bounced back inside all excited and we finished off our preparations.

The house was put in order, we had our feast (which Tom helped to make), the house was sained, and after the kids went to bed I had the chance for some peace and quiet while I made my personal devotions. It was a pretty simple celebration for us, and I'm starting to feel like the festivals are settling into our routine now as they're becoming more familiar to us as a family.

We welcomed in the summer and the new opportunities it brings for us. And with the blossoming of hawthorns, summer has arrived:

Là Bealltainn shona dhuibh uile!

In lieu of an actual post of actual substance, here's a traditional Irish song about the day, Thugamar Féin an Samhradh Linn.

I hope you have a good Bealltainn!

An Cailleach Bheara

I've posted a link to this short film before, but it's well worth another watch! 'Tis the season, and all...

Soon the Cailleach Bheur will make her lament as she gives up and admits defeat in trying to hold back the onslaught of Spring. As she throws down her wand, she shouts out:

‘Dh’ fhag e mhan mi, dh’ fhag e ‘n ard mi Dh’ fhag e eadar mo dha lamh mi, Dh’ fhag e bial mi, dh’ fhag e cul mi, Dh’ fha e eadar mo dha shul mi.		It escaped me below, it escaped me above.     It escaped me between my two hands,     It escaped me before, it escaped me behind,     It escaped me between my two eyes.
Dh’ fhag e shios mi, dh’ fhag e shuas mi, Dh’ fhag e eadar mo dha chluas mi, Dh’ fhag e thall mi, dh’ fhag e bhos mi, Dh’ fhag e eadar mo dha chos mi.		It escaped me down, it escaped me up,     It escaped me between my two ears,     It escaped me thither, it escaped me hither,     It escaped me between my two feet.
Thilg mi ‘n slacan druidh donai, Am bun preis crin cruaidh conuis. Far nach fas fionn no foinnidh, Ach fracan froinnidh feurach.’		I threw my druidic evil wand.     Into the base of a withered hard whin bush,     Where shall not grow 'fionn' nor 'fionnidh,'     But fragments of grassy 'froinnidh.'

While the Irish An Cailleach Bheara doesn't have such firm associations with the seasons as the Scottish An Cailleach Bheur does, there are some hints. Cairn T, at Loughcrew (or Sliabh na Caillí) is thought to have an equinoctial alignment:

The light of the equinox sunrise illuminates the back chamber of the Cairn T at the Loughcrew complex, lighting up carvings that are thought to have astronomical meanings. Near to Cairn T is the Hag's Chair, and she is said to have created the tomb by accidentally dropping a pile of stones from her apron. But of course, in spite of her associations with the place today, we can't really say when the Cailleach came to be associated with the place – certainly not until after Christianity, when the word 'cailleach' came into the Irish language – or if her associations are meant to tie in with the equinoctial alignment. The coincidence with the Scottish Là na Cailliche is tantalising, however.

It does seem like she has other, older names as well, which offer further (possible) seasonal associations. In The Lament of the Old Woman of Beare, she calls herself Buí, who is referred to as a wife of Lugh in other sources, and is said to have been buried at Knowth (Cnogba). In the Dindshenchas of Nás (another of Lugh's wives) she is mentioned again, along with Tailtiu, so one wonders if she has an association with Lúnasa, which were often held at places that are thought to have been the burial place of supernatural women or goddesses who were married to Lugh, or otherwise associated with him? The Dindshenchas of Nás seems to hint that this was the case, since it mentions games and gatherings.

Another Dindshenchas, Lia Nothain, refers to two sisters, Nothain and Sentuinne, both of whom are "Old Women" and Sentuinne itself means "Old Woman" just as "Cailleach" can. The Dindshenchas associates them with May-day, suggesting further seasonal associations:

Nothain (was) an old woman [cailleach] of Connaught, and from the time she was born her face never fell on a field, and her thrice fifty years were complete. Her sister once went to have speech with her. Sentuinne (” Old Woman”) was her name: her husband was Sess Srafais, and Senbachlach (“Old-Churl”) was another name for him. Hence said the poet: 

      Sentuinne and Senbachlach,
     A seis srofais be their withered hair!
     If they adore not God’s Son
     They get not their chief benefit. 

From Berre, then, they went to her to bring her on a plain on May-day. When she beheld the great plain, she was unable to go back from it, and she planted a stone (lia) there in the ground, and struck her head against it and….and was dead. ” It will be my requiem….I plant it for sake of my name.” Whence Lia Nothan (“Nothan’s Stone”). 

     Nothain, daughter of Conmar the fair,
     A hard old woman of Connaught,
     In the month of May, glory of battle,
     She found the high stone. 

Source

The association with Berre (Beare), just as Buí is associated with that place, suggests that they are probably one and the same. So there are some hints and bits of seasonal lore that may be associated with An Cailleach Bheara. It's guesswork, for sure, but I thought it's worth putting out there to ponder.

Bluebells!

They're out late this year, but they're none the worse for it. The woods round here are awash in a sea of bluebells, waving gently in the breeze and basking in the sun as it shines patchily through the thickening canopy of leaves.

It will totally piss it down tomorrow, no doubt, but for now I'm enjoying being lulled into a false sense of security as far as warm and summery goes.

The downside, of course, is the midgies. But I can deal with that. Out in the garden we're starting to get the first few shoots of carrots and a single, brave leek. The suspect onions have miraculously sprouted, while the sprouts – donated by my neighbour last year – have gone to seed, more's the pity. The peas are looking good, though, and there may or not be a courgette growing. I'm not sure; it could be a weed but we're going with it right now.

Since Bealltainn, it finally feels like the long winter is over and it feels like that in more ways than one, I guess; I'm nearly weaned off my pain medication completely and it really feels like a mental fog has been lifted. I'm feeling almost energetic...

Doin' stuff

Where did April go?

Time seems to be hurtling onwards and Spring has only just decided to stick around for more than a few days at a time, as of about three weeks ago (going by the length of time since I turned the heating off in the house...). This year seems to be going so quickly so it seems odd to be thinking about Summer already, but all the signs are here – the longer days, the stronger sun, the dawn chorus and gangs of corvids of various kinds hanging around and looking for mischief (our postman carries dog biscuits with him for when he has to knock on the door and deal with potentially suspicious dogs – or our dog Mungo, who's a hugger and loves everyone whether they love him or not – and when he knocked on our door the other day he was extremely freaked out that first one crow and then a whole bunch of them had been following him down the road for over an hour. Not flitting from tree to tree every now and then. Hopping down the street behind him. He eventually threw a few dog biscuits at them and legged it).

The landscape is awash in the yellows of dandelions, cowslips, primrose and gorse:

The trees are unfurling their leaves:

And I've finally been out in the garden to see what survived, tidy it all up, and start some veg off. It's been good to feel the warm sun on my skin, while my fingers have been stuck into the cold soil...and it's long overdue but I've finally got to sowing the seeds of the coming harvest.

I wanted to get everything in before Bealltainn, so now I have some peas, courgettes, carrots and leeks on the go in the vegetable patch, and I'm attempting some onions but the sets I bought last year have dried out and I don't think they'll do anything. I'll get some more when I can but as it is a strawberry bush has taken over most of the containers I used for onions last year, so I won't have much space.

It looks like the back of my flowerbed has been taken over by raspberry or bramble suckers – I'm not sure which yet, but I'm hoping for raspberry. The blueberry and blackcurrant survived the cold snap as well so hopefully along with the strawberry that's attempting world domination we'll get some decent crops this year.

With the garden all done, then came Bealltainn. At the weekend I encouraged the kids to do some pictures based on a summer theme (with the idea of using one as a background for the fish tank, which has taken up the place where I used to put our murals) but things didn't quite go to plan...We started with a joint effort but Rosie decided to add in a giraffe and then Tom put in a paint monster doing battle with the giraffe, which all in all wasn't quite the theme or message I was looking for...Rosie then decided the fish would rather have a butterfly to keep them company, but it didn't quite turn out as she wanted and she didn't want to finish it. In the end, we did a collage with some colourful paper for the background, and some fabric butterflies and some stickers and gold sequins stuck randomly about the place. It was declared "actually quite good" so we've gone with that one.

For the day (or evening) I decided to stick to pretty much the same formula as usual, although instead of bannocks and caudle I bent the idea a little and made a honey and apricot cake, with some chocolate pudding. I was going to decorate the cake with some leftover fondant in the cupboard, but it turned out it had gone solid. Instead, I just used butter icing and some decorations – flowers and gold balls, which along with the honey and apricots were supposed to represent the fertility and prosperity of the season:

I blessed the cake and the caudle as I made them and managed to get the cake out of the pan in one piece (a good sign, or at least not a bad one). And around that I spent the day giving the house a final Spring clean, then set about preparing the feast. I was going to churn some butter with the kids but I could only get a small pot of cream from the shops and it didn't seem worth it, so I just whipped it to go with pudding instead. I did some breaded chicken for dinner (not exactly traditional, but slightly more so than leftover red lentil dahl, right?) and set the best bits out as opening offerings.

The house was invaded by Tom's friends after school so all the preparations we left to me, really. But with the friends finally turfed out and the feasting beginning, the kids were thoroughly appreciative of the fact that it was a "special day," and Rosie had picked some dandelions to bring the summer in and we put them on the shrine for decoration, and they both brought some more in the next day as well.

After the kids had gone to bed I went out to collect some rowan. I had the sense that there was a particular tree I should collect it from, and not the one in the garden as I did last year, so after I'd done the main part of my devotions and rekindled the hearth, I took some cake as an offering for the tree and went for a walk. I used a bit to make a charm and the rest has been put away for safe keeping.

Some more offerings were made, with a part of the cake going out for the spirits, based on the practice mentioned by Thomas Pennant and Carmichael. I've done this for several years now and some years I've adapted it, others I've done it as it's been recorded (per Carmichael):

“Here to thee, wolf, spare my sheep; there to thee, fox, spare my lambs; here to thee, eagle, spare my goats; there to thee raven, spare my kids; here to thee, martin, spare my fowlsl there to thee, harrier, spare my chickens.”

On the one hand I think adapting to my own circumstances would work because it's directly relevant to me and mine. On the other, it's tradishunal. And as I know I'm from farming stock I feel reading from the script, as it were, is a way of respecting and remembering my ancestors, and what they went through each year. Sometimes life is precarious... Ultimately it still works as a metaphor, to protect myself and my family from the kind of threats that are wily and often unseen or at least unpredictable. This year I did it the tradishunal way and comparing it to previous experiences it didn't necessarily feel any less right or wrong than other ways I've tried it. I think perhaps it felt more right than not..but with the many things my family has been through in the past year or so, perhaps tradishun is the one constant I can rely on and take comfort in. In the face of uncertainty, the predictable gives comfort.

Is tradition spiritual chocolate?

Maybe so. Maybe that's why doing the same thing over and over, year in year out, never gets boring for me.

Saining was done too, and while I was doing the kitchen Mungo was going mental at the back door; he's not usually a very vocal dog but he was very clear that whatever was out there wasn't coming in, thanks. I paid special attention to the threshold after that. I didn't get the sense of anything malevolent out there but I figured it's best not to take chances.

The next morning I made further offerings and looked out for any omens that might be about; a crow flying sunwise, so hopefully a good one. Either way, I hope so. And I hope you had a good one too.

And finally, Bealltainn

As I posted a few weeks ago(ish) now, my celebrations for Bealltainn didn't happen at the beginning of this month due to lurgy and the resulting putting-my-back-out-again-from-all-the-coughing. Thanks back. I'd hoped to get my celebrations done on the Old Style date, at least, which should have been around May 14-15th, allowing for the increasing drift between the Julian (Old Style) and Gregorian (our current, 'New Style') calendar. Unfortunately my back wasn't quite up to it by then either, although I did make sure to harvest some rowan before then, at the least.

Since then an increase in morphine and a steroid injection (although I'm still dubious as to how much it's actually helping) and plenty of rest has helped, and finally I felt up to getting my celebrations on. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing, a snap decision I made because I felt I had to do it now. One of the things that spurred me on was the need to replace the plant I've had on my shelf shrine since we moved here; it's been ailing for quite a while and I wanted to make sure I got something else on there before its now seemingly inevitable demise. A trip to the garden centre to get more hamster supplies provided the perfect opportunity for that, and seeing as I was then able to spruce up my shelf, it only seemed right to incorporate that into the festivities.

My poor houseplant (I've no idea what kind it was - or still is, just - unfortunately) is seemingly symptomatic of the problems I've been having over the past year or so. Hopefully the renewal and replacement with a spider plant will help bring a tide of changes for the better. Signs are a tricky thing. But I can't ignore the significance of the timing...A big part of Bealltainn celebrations is to protect against disaster and murrain in the coming year, and while I don't have a disease per se, I can't say I've been in the best of health for the last year or so.

And so one of the big focuses for my celebrations this year was definitely on the saining. It always is anyway, but this year I felt it necessary to go all out and do a proper good job of it, and so it was out with the old and in with the new. I may not have a herd of cattle or a flock of sheep to drive between the fires, but then again not everyone did when the druids supposedly (according to Cormac's Glossary) sang their incantations over the flames way back when, either. Regardless, the saining, the fires, the coming together as community were important, and in some parts of Ireland and Scotland they still are. So no, I have no cows - alas - to drive between two bonfires, but that doesn't mean the rite itself is irrelevant in this day and age. For most of us, while our livelihoods don't rely on our livestock, pastures or crops in the field, we still need to make a living in order to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. We still hope for good health and comfort. Especially in this current economic climate, we still have the same sort of concerns about the future as those before us did, and while we may be at some remove from how people used to live when the druids did their thing - while we might not face starvation, and so on, if disaster happens to us - protecting the home and family is as important to me as it ever was to my Irish ancestors, or ancestors in general for that matter. So for me the saining aspects of Bealltainn are as important and relevant today as it ever has been, even though the context may be slightly different.

Aside from the saining then, and the ceremonial extinguishing and relighting the hearth, there were offerings and devotions, there were songs and prayer, charms were made and hung and the first water of the Bealltainn morning was skimmed and will be kept for rites throughout the next year. In return (perhaps) some old friends reappeared after a long absence - my old friends the foxes, and the owl. It's been a long while since we've seen them out and about.

For the most part I got everything done that I wanted to do, although the kids were not so bothered about joining in with the things we usually do together. The weather has been gloriously sunny recently and there are plenty of kids outside playing, and frankly, they're far more interesting than I am these days. Even so, Rosie, who's five now and is "the arty one" happily did our seasonal mural. Any excuse to get gluing, as far as Rosie's concerned (while Tom decided he'd rather make a Lego Star Wars 'movie' with daddy):

It is, if you can't tell, a seaside-themed sort of scene again (she did a similar picture at Là Fhèill Brìghde). This time she wanted it stripy, so I helped with all the sticking, under her careful direction, and she did most of the rest. The checkered blue and then white is the sea with silvery waves and a boat, the gold-yellow is the sand, with a stripe of green grass verge and then a road (that's a car, not a giant ladybird...). There's a girl in the sea flying a kite, and then there's supposed to be someone on the beach near the beach towel, but unfortunately Rosie ran out of glitter-glue before she could finish it properly, took a huff and didn't want to use anything else to finish it off. Once it had dried she decided she was pleased enough with it after all, and that was that, it was declared done. I think this may be a hint for the upcoming summer holidays; if the weather (and my back) holds out, I foresee many an afternoon at the beach in my future. Fine by me! I'm sure the dogs agree.

Being on morphine means it's difficult for me to eat proper meals at the moment - I don't have much of an appetite and if I do eat a full meal then it often doesn't sit too well with me. It's great for my waistline, but not so much for enjoying feasting; my stomach did manage to oblige me this one time, and as planned I had a go at a clootie dumpling for pudding (by which I mean dessert, if you're American, apparently...). The recipe calls for buttermilk, which was handy because we churned some butter:

I'm getting better at squeezing the excess liquid out now, I think. This time I used an electric whisk - far easier on the back - and it worked really well. Unfortunately, the clootie dumpling wasn't quite as successful...once the ingredients are all mixed together you put it in a cheese cloth and tie it up, then boil it. It takes about three hours to cook so obviously you have to keep an eye on the pot to make sure it doesn't boil dry, unless you have a Really Big Pot. I don't, so my mother's phone call was Really Bad Timing because the pot did boil dry. The dumpling wasn't burnt but the clootie itself was, and so dumpling ended up being not so much a dumpling as a soggy, stodgy mess. Tasty but soggy. Alas, with the clootie sacrificed there will not be any attempts at making crowdie just yet.

And that's how summer arrived at our house; if the weather reports are anything to go by for this week, it was just in time. Hopefully I'll be able to get outside and enjoy the record temperatures we're supposed to have soon.

Postponed due to lurgy

I have Teh Dreaded Lurgy and the weather is about as awful as I feel at the moment, so on both counts I'm postponing my Bealltainn celebrations until I have the energy to get the house in order and properly prepared. I might aim for the weekend or early next week instead - I don't want to wait too long.

In the meantime, since I have a bit longer to think about stuff and make preparations, I'm contemplating the usual butter churning (and warbling singing that goes with it) and perhaps getting brave enough to make some crowdie cheese. I can't smell anything right now so at least I won't be put off by the smell...On top of that, I might try might hand at a clootie dumpling as part of the feasting, and the rowan, which is nearly in full leaf...

...needs a bit of pruning, which will allow me to restock my supplies for rowan charms. There will be all of the other usual stuff as well, including skimming the well and saining, and so on, although the non-ritual stuff I might spread things over a few days so I don't over-do things. I'm waiting for an epidural injection that will hopefully help manage my pain levels until I can have surgery to remove the disc that's causing all my problems, but until then I still need to be careful. That is certainly one thing I'll be celebrating - I finally have an answer for what's been causing all of these problems!

I stumbled across this article (from 2005) that is linked to on the Beltane page on Wikipedia, which I think is interesting:

Last Sunday Maybush fires raged in Arklow once more to greet the arrival of May. But the local residents were also enraged - by the fact that their areas were made dumping grounds for unwanted household goods. According to reports, many householders used the camouflage of the Maybush bonfires to disposed of unwanted furniture and other items. 

Residents angered at bonfire dumping 

There are lots of modern celebrations these days, like the Beltane Fire Festival in Edinburgh, but things like this just go to show that there are survivals that have deeper roots than the ones like Edinburgh that have been recontextualised. It's nice to see.

Anyway, I hope you all have a good one (and for any readers in the southern hemisphere, a good Samhainn if that's what you're celebrating).

Stomping grounds

The glorious weather we've been having means the bluebells are out early this year - they've been shyly unfurling for a good few weeks now already - and after spotting the first few out at the beach the other week, and then even more at the weekend, I decided it was time to go out and see if the woods were in their full glory yet. It's one of those signs that Bealltainn isn't far off now.

I've not been doing so well with the intended regular circuits of the village as part of my regular devotions; alas, with birthdays, visitors and the resulting plague my nephews brought all keeping me busy, I overdid it a little and haven't been so mobile again for the past few weeks (not as bad as it could have been, thankfully). However, with a new addition to the family...

...(Hamish the hamster, that is), our youngest and totally neurotic mostly sheepdog, Mungo, has all but been having a nervous break down. What is this thing, and why does it not fuss me? Why?! LOVE MEEEE!!!! Mungo has been in need of something to make it better. A little adventure, perhaps. And frankly, a change of scenery wouldn't go amiss for me, either.

Off to the woods we go, then. I took some pictures of the woods that go through the middle of the village just after the storms earlier this year, but there is another wooded area that I hadn't been to yet this year. Until today. This woodland hasn't faired much better, to be honest, and being a little more out of the way it's been somewhat neglected compared to the other woods in terms of clean up. There are still felled trees everywhere, blocking paths and leaving huge scars in the earth, but even on the uprooted trees, life springs eternal:

And the ones that are less fortunate, well...They're part of the cycle of life too. Fungus food:

And home to the odd critter or two:

Alas, we didn't spot the woodpecker we've been hearing while we've been out in the garden recently - hammering away at the trees at any given opportunity - but the bluebells didn't disappoint:

You can tell they're bluebells, Rosie says helpfully, because they're blue. And they look like bells.

Thanks Rosie.

There are a lot of bees out, too:

Tiny ones like this, or big fat bumblebees lumbering ponderously around from flower to flower, it's nice to see them when the stories in the news are always so depressing lately.

Yes, Bealltainn will be here soon. There will be butter-making and feasting, saining and rowan-collecting, the hearth-fire will be renewed and the summer welcomed in. And the cycle continues on...

Bealltainn - part two

 

Mmmmmm. Cheese scones...

I finally got around to finishing off my Bealltainn celebrations just shy of two weeks after I started - there was ritual, there were offerings, there were bannocks, and scones, and stew,  and also skimming and saining, and making of charms, and cutting of rowan for the charm-making thereof...Things were a little muted, but I'm learning to adapt to a new life of not always being so mobile, and making the most of when I can.

There's nothing like living with constant pain - of varying degrees, at least - and the side effects of medications meant to help control the pain, to give someone a bit of a boot up the arse as far as spirituality and practice go. Or me, that is. And as far as life in general goes, really. At the moment I'm in a medical limbo between getting a diagnosis (the ins and outs of which are far too boring to go into) and getting the appropriate treatment for my particular problem, so I'm both waiting and doing what I can in terms of living and coping without too many drugs fogging up my brain, and adapting life to within means I'm actually capable of. Fun.

Inevitably, it seems, compromises will have to be made in future. From now on, if my back isn't up to it then the festive dinners may not always be slavishly cooked from scratch, the bread not freshly baked, or the butter freshly churned, as I'd prefer, but the intent remains the same. Likewise, ritual may have to become more internalised at times, rather than accompanied by ritualised actions and gestures, but until I ever reach the point where I can delegate these things, what will be will be. I do those things because I enjoy doing them, because it makes sense to me; not because I have to, not because it makes me more spiritual in some way.

One thing I can still do, though, is read. I haven't done as much reading as I'd like lately, really (medication and brain fog etc), but I have a small backlog accumulating, and over the next however many posts I'll be trying to clear it. First up is:

Celtic Flame: An Insider's Guide to Irish Pagan Tradition

Aedh Rua

As I understand it, this was originally written as a CR101 book, but never quite made it that far, for one reason or another. The author himself stresses that he no longer identifies as CR, although the influence of some of those who were involved in the early stages of the CR community (especially Alexei Kondratiev) is unmistakeable. The book also begins with a veritable who's who of movers and shakers as far as the founders of CR are concerned.

Perhaps because of all this - both the author's involvement, the influence, and the many names invoked here - I can't help but feel that the focus of the book gets a little confused at times. On the one hand, it's not a CR book, but one that describes the author's own path and beliefs. Fair enough. On the other, it seems that the audience the author is talking to is meant to be, or expected to be, CR, since this is the community most often referred to.

This might be indicative of the fact that the book and the author evolved in their path over the course of its writing, or else it could be that the author simply assumes that the CR community, or those interested in it, will indeed be his audience. If it's the latter, I don't think it really works too well; if it's the former, then it's probably symptomatic of the fact that this is a self-published title and, like so many under that heading, in need of some editing - and certainly elsewhere, in terms of layout, formatting and proofreading, it could use some work too. There's nothing major here, but the Bibliography alone causes a headache if you actually want to find something; the references don't always seem to match up to what's being talked about, and so on.

It's an odd sort of book. In terms of doing what it offers, I think it does well - you come away with a good idea what the author's path is all about, even if there is some confusion as I've mentioned. I would have to disagree that it's 'authentic Irish pagan tradition' as the author presents it; rather, it's one way of doing things, and I have to say I find language like that a little concerning and disconcerting. The chapter on values, however, genuinely offers something that I've not seen elsewhere - outside of Alexei Kondratiev's article on Celtic Values, which it draws heavily on - although it maybe ends up going on a little too long as far as how they relate to different levels of society is concerned.

The author also goes out of his way to include a good amount of Irish (and in the ritual chapter, Scottish Gaelic, too) - introducing Irish words for concepts he's explaining, explaining what they mean, and so on. That's a definite plus, but along the way all these different words gets hard to keep track of, and I didn't realise there was a handy glossary given at the back until I'd nearly finished the whole book (it's not listed in the contents page). The Irish in particular seems a bit confused to me, with - as far as I can tell - Old Irish and modern Irish mixed up at times, but always with modern pronunciations given (when they're given at all). This may be an issue of spelling/proofing more than anything else, but I would be leery of using any of it myself without checking it thoroughly first. In the ritual chapter, I have to give the author props for being upfront and honest that his Irish isn't up to adapting the Gàidhlig of the Carmina Gadelica, but I'm not sure that simply adapting the Gàidhlig with Irish deities is nothing more than something of a fudge - this is supposed to be Irish Paganism, it seems to detract a little from that.

The ritual format is not something I personally get along with - tools, casting a circle to make a sacred space, invocations to deities and so - but some of the poetry here is quite good and inspiring. With the Carmina Gadelica being a major source for inspiration here, it's maybe not something that will be unfamiliar, but I'm always interested in what other people do with it, and how they approach the material.

The section on gods also bears mentioning - the way the gods, spirits and ancestors are split up into the 'head' gods, 'specialist gods (of skill) tutelary spirits/gods, and so on - is genuinely nothing I've ever seen before and interesting for that alone, even if I don't entirely agree with the reasoning. One problem I have here is that the gods are listed in terms of attributes and symbols (including lunar/solar stuff for good measure), with a handy reference guide on what to call on them for - it comes across more like a menu for rent-a-god than anything with real depth, and certainly is one of the points where the author and most CRs would most definitely disagree.

His views on the Fomorians are a little too black and white - he has them as demons, eternally pitted against the Tuatha Dé Danann. At the very least, this seems to ignore the fact that after the Fomoire were defeated at the Second Battle of Mag Tured, they're never mentioned in an adversarial role again (as far as I can recall. The TDD themselves take on that role, against the Milesians, even). It also ignores later Irish folk tradition. Other types of spirits are included under the Fomorian title, though, including Scottish ones like the Fachan, which not only confuses the Irish focus in the book otherwise, but also doesn't address the point that although they might seem similar, but that doesn't mean they're the same...I think if you find this book of interest, this is a chapter best ignored.

All in all, this seems to be a book that came so close, and yet didn't go far enough in some areas. To a certain extent it feels unfinished in a way that I can't exactly put my finger on. Certain parts feel like they need fleshing out - a little spit and polish wouldn't go amiss in general - and over all I think it would've done better to stand on its own merits rather than in the shadow (even nominally) of CR.

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.

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.