Catching up

We're well past Là Fhèill Brìghde and Là na Caillich but neither went unnoticed for us here. Although given the weather it seems the Cailleach didn't go to her rest without a fight this year...

Since near the end of last year I've been struggling a lot more with chronic pain issues and I'm awaiting the results of another MRI to see if scar tissue from my previous surgery is the problem, or if the disc has just gone caput again (or maybe something else is up...) and will be attending a group physio session, that's intended to help me live within my limitations a little better, in the coming weeks.  All of this – and being busy with other work and some ongoing projects – means I haven't been up to much here on the blog, and celebrations have been scaled back to just about the bare bones lately. As I've written about before, when it comes to being somewhat challenged in the mobility area, it generally means that my devotions are dictated by how much I can handle at the time. I do, but I only do if I can, and as much as I can. And I'm OK with that.

So Là Fhèill Brìghde was pretty low key, although Rosie joined in with enthusiasm and gusto because this is her favourite time of year. I bought a new doll-making kit for us to make our dealbh Brìde with, and invited the kids to join in. Tom wasn't so keen – he's less interested in crafting than Rosie is – so it was just me and Rosie this year. As usual we made a few dollies and picked the one we thought worked best, and this is what we ended up with:

We feasted and sained, and lit some candles for Brìde to put in the window. I offered the honours to the kids, if one of them wanted to the lighting, but they both wanted to do it so we ended up deciding they should do a candle each; they lit, and I said the prayer, then went to invite Brìde in. Rosie was very excited to put our dealbh Brìde to bed, and Tom joined in by arranging a cow next to her.

Then we picked out a few pieces to put out for Brìde to bless on her nighttime rounds – this is serious business for Rosie, because she's taken the idea to heart. Ever since we left her favourite blanket out for Brìde to bless, she's insisted on having it on her bed every night so "Brìde will keep the bad dreams away." The blanket must go under the duvet so it's touching her directly; this is important. So important, in fact, that she didn't want to let go of the blanket for even one night, and even though I told her it's traditional so Brìde can bless it again. In the end we left out a different blanket instead.

The weather was pretty nasty so I put them in the shed, which I left propped open a little, so they'd stay put, but as it happened Mr Seren's plaid ended up on the opposite side of the garden by morning. It was only thanks to the fence post that it didn't get blown away entirely, and Mr Seren was pretty bemused to find his plaid flapping around. I guess it was a good job it wasn't his underwear...

A little later on in the month we went on a big long walk up to the forest I took a walk to last year at Là Fhèill Brìghde. This time I took the kids as well as the dogs and we got there right at the golden hour:

It's been a pretty mild winter but spring seems to have got off to a slow start in spite of the fact that a lot of trees started blossoming even before Hogmanay. Nature seems a little confused lately, and we didn't see many signs of spring on our walk. Plenty of mud, though:

For Là na Caillich we had a pretty vicious storm so we had to hold off on our usual a visit to the beach for the few days, but we got there in the end and made our offerings to the Cailleach and the Cailleachan. Now I'm just waiting for a bit of a dry spell so I can get out in the garden and start tidying things up (though I might have to get a gardener in this year, just to keep on top of the lawn). It's been such a wet winter that the lawn is more bog than anything at the moment and it's going to need resowing in places. Some of the plants I put in around the new pond are going to have to be replaced, too, because they just weren't able to cope with all the rain – I was worried that might happen. I have a gooseberry bush to put in, though, which I'm pretty pleased about (we'll hopefully be able to pick them for Lùnastal, as is traditional, though I'm not anticipating a crop for a while yet), but so far that's it. I haven't thought about what else I'm going to put in but I'm thinking about expanding the containers – bigger ones so I can maybe put a small fruit tree in, too.

So spring is officially here and a quarter of the year is gone already. Hopefully next week I'll be going to Edinburgh to see the Celts exhibition (again).

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!

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.

St Patrick's Day, with much wailing and gnashing of teeth

As the sound of much internet anguish and wailing and gnashing of teeth over St Patrick's Day recedes, we ease into Sheelah's Day...

I wrote a bit about it last year and put together some pointers to the references I'd found about it, and that's about as much as there is to go on, I think; I've found some additional references to it, but it's only ever a passing mention of the day that doesn't really add to anything. Just like Là na Caillich – which is what I tend to focus on at this time of year – Sheelah's Day seems to mark an official end to the winter storms, and thus marks the official beginning of Spring.

For many, according to the sources, it's also traditionally a day of nursing a hangover or partaking in a hair of the dog after yesterday's celebrations and revelry. For some of us today, it's pretty much a similar feeling, but instead of the after-effects of overdosing on alcohol, there's a hangover of frustration, of having had our fill of the ignorance and "alternative history" that abounds at this time of year. As much as anyone might write about how the snakes-don't-equal-druids, and that Patrick isn't responsible for mass genocide of the druids, pagans, or anyone else... there's always a depressing amount of wailing about it anyway. Here's the first one I saw yesterday:

Which... Since when has "driving out" meant "mass murder"? I mean, really.

But anyway, here's (arguably) an even better one:

To be honest, this one's so condensed with bullshit (and an impressively immediate Godwin, to boot) that I have to point to Poe's law here... But I'm pretty sure the snake tattoo thing comes from Marian Zimmer Bradley's Mists of Avalon, right? It's been a while since I read it, but I'm pretty sure the male druids wore serpent tattoos in that. Although it's not the first time Mists has been held up as a factual story, is it?

The problem with this kind of thing is that – aside from the fact that it's so painfully inaccurate on just about every level that I almost want to cry – it's nigh impossible to counter. Saying "That never actually happened" prompts replies of "Prove it," but it's very difficult to prove the absence of something because by it's nature, there's nothing there to show as evidence. It's difficult to point to the absence of mass graves in the archaeological record. It's difficult to point out the absence of documentation on the matter, but pointing that out usually garners the kind of response that there was a conspiracy to cover that kind of thing up, because hey, "History is written by the victors," or variations along those lines.

We can disagree any amount. We can point to more accurate resources that show that the snake story is nothing more than that: A story. It's really nothing more than a stock motif, a miracle of a kind that many saints, heroes, and even gods before them are said to have performed. So we can even muse on the fact that stories of this type have their roots in paganism, and isn't that kind of ironic considering the fact that so many pagans are keen to believe that it's evidence of paganism's oppression?

But it often falls on wilfully deaf ears because the fact remains that some people want the illusion, the fantasy of oppression. People seem to want to believe that Patrick is responsible for the genocide of the druids and pagans. In spite of the fact that Christianity came to Ireland before Patrick did, and pre-Christian beliefs persisted well beyond Patrick's mission, people just want to believe their own narrative. There's no amount of evidence that can convince those people otherwise because they don't want to hear it in the first place, and it's embarrassing and cringeworthy to see memes like the ones above fly around at this time of year that perpetuate this kind of thing. Even worse, I think, are the people who recognise that there's no real truth to these claims, but choose to observe it as a day of "mourning" anyway. Mostly, it seems, because Christianity happened at all, And That's Bad. 

Really, it's insulting. And offensive.

The reality is, Christianity happened. It arrived and spread peacefully in Ireland, and our Irish ancestors adopted it willingly – certainly not at the edge of a sword. There were no horrendous massacres of pagans who refused to convert, and the pagan Irish didn't find Christianity to be such a threat that they persecuted early Christians, either. So peaceful was the whole process that – as Gorm pointed out last week – Ireland's Christians had to come up with other ways to martyr themselves to the cause.

But it's always Patrick that's the focus of all this misplaced outrage, in spite of the fact that those same people who are so angry about him don't really know anything about him in the first place. Nowhere in the works of the saint himself, or in the later myths, legends and hagiographies (saint's lives) is he shown as a perpetrator of mass genocide. If he was that successful as a genocidal maniac, there would hardly be so many stories of him having miracle smack-downs with druids, would there? He's hardly the kind of guy who was all about sunshine and rainbows, either, but still. Anything he does – especially in the later sources – has more to do with showing Patrick in a way the writers wanted him to look, framing him in a way that people would understand, or that would get the message the writers wanted to convey across. It has very little to do with anything Patrick actually did during his life; the way the later stories portray him – as a warrior priest, a no-bullshit-purveyor-of-miracles-against-druids kind of guy – is at odds with the way Patrick portrays himself in his own words. Sure, Patrick wants to make himself look good, but the later sources are more concerned with making Patrick look powerful, to justify the authority of Armagh as the ecclesiastical centre of Ireland. Kildare did the same with Brigid.

But regardless of the things that Patrick did or didn't do, no one ever points the finger of outrage at those ancestors who converted, though, do they? Is the thought that they chose their own way – as we've done today, as pagans and polytheists of one stripe or another – so hard to reconcile that we need an imaginary scapegoat instead? If that's the case, then it's a weird kind of fundamentalism when people, many of whom claim to venerate those same ancestors, choose to accept a fantasy rather than come to terms with the fact that times changed in a way they don't want to fathom. It's hardly respectful to those ancestors, and it's hypocritical to demand respect for one's own beliefs when one fails to respect others. Clinging to a fantasy does nobody any favours.


Reliable resources on Patrick and Ireland's conversion:

Dáibhí Ó Cróinín: Early Medieval Ireland 400-1200
John Koch: Celtic Culture: A Historical Encyclopedia
Bernhard Maier: The Celts: A History from Earliest Times to the Present
Alexander Krappe: St Patrick and the Snakes

The Cailleach's Lament (or not so much, yet)

‘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.

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.

Thilg mi ‘n slacan druidh donai,

Am bun preis crin cruaidh conuis.

Far nach fas fionn no foinnidh,

Ach fracan froinnidh feurach.’

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.

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.

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.'

So Là na Cailliche has come and gone and the Cailleach has given up her fight against the onslaught of all that's light and warm and fertile. Spring is officially here! Or...not so much, for many of us. The Friday just before Là na Cailliche we woke up to this:

And it's yet to melt fully which is very unusual here on the coast - aside from the snow it's been very dry and cold so it hasn't been washed away. The brave daffodils who've dared poke their heads out so far are drooping mournfully, but the hawthorns are happily coming into leaf and don't seem to mind too much. Normally by this time of year the village would be covered in cherry blossom, though, wafting around the place on gentle breezes, but so far they've decided to hold off.

So winter's grip isn't going to be loosening just yet, it seems. We've got off quite lightly here – just across the Clyde, over in Argyll and some of the Islands (Bute and Arran), the amount of snow and the strong winds damaged the electricity supply – it seems to have dropped out of the news but the last I heard they'd been cut off for a good week or so and the electricity company was struggling to reconnect them.

There's more bad news than that, though; farmers in the worst affected areas here and on the Isle of Man and Northern Island are facing the potential loss of entire herds of livestock. The snow arrived just as the lambing started and many of the sheep got buried in snow drifts. If they didn't freeze or suffocate to death they were certainly facing starvation. The links above have some videos so you can see how bad things are; many farmers are facing huge losses this season.

It's one of those times when – here in my comfy house with central heating and electricity – I'm reminded that we're all still ultimately at the mercy of the elements. I've made my offerings the Cailleach, but it looks like that was a bit optimistic, all things considered.

Sheelah's Day

There's been a fair bit of discussion - as usual, in the run up - about St Patrick's Day in the last week or so. And - as usual - it's ranged from the vaguely interesting to the typically silliness (SNAAAAKES = PAGANS!!! WUUUR. ARG). (No). And then there are the HILARIOUS and not at all stereotypical and offensive t-shirts and (ye gods) specially festive "Irish dreamcatchers." Oh, Etsy...

Either way, it's one of those things that some people go for, and others don't. And whatever. Personally, while I might make some offerings, I'm more likely to be concentrating on Là na Caillich given my focus. But it doesn't hurt to do a bit of reading, and it so happens that I did and what I found has prompted a bit of think about it all.

One thing I've always wondered about is the fact that Là na Caillich - as far as I'm aware - isn't a thing in Ireland (or Man). But even in Scotland, Là na Caillich and St Patrick's Day are often seen as interchangeable, especially when you look at the kind of weather-lore that abounds for this time of year. So that's interesting in itself, because it suggests some sort of link between the two, and their associations with the season. The reading I've been doing has reinforced that.

While Scotland has Là na Caillich as it's "official" heralding of spring, Ireland has a few springtime associations that fall on or around St. Patrick's Day. In Ireland, there are a number of customs associated with St. Patrick's Day that could be seen as having spring-time connotations, including the fact that he is associated with the gales that often coincide with this time of year. The whole greenery thing could also be interpreted as being associated with the spring ('cos...things are turning green again, life is stirring...you know the drill). There is the tradition of drowning the shamrock, too, in a beer that's been specially brewed for the day. This beer is begun in February, and it's tempting to see a coincidence between that timeframe and the fact that Brigid ushers in the first stirrings of spring at her festival, and then ultimately triumphs over the Cailleach who admits defeat at Là na Caillich. I'm just speculating, of course, but the coincidences don't stop there.

While the reason for drowning the shamrock isn't clearly stated, it's repeated the following day (with fresh shamrock). This day is known as Sheelah's Day, and things start getting really interesting:

The day after St. Patrick's Day is "Sheelah's Day," or the festival in honour of Sheelah. Its observers are not so anxious to determine who "Sheelah" was as they are earnest in her celebration. Some say she was "Patrick's wife," others that she was "Patrick's mother," while all agree that her immortal memory is to be maintained by potations of whisky. The shamrock worn on St. Patrick's Day should be worn also on Sheelah's Day, and on the latter night be drowned in the last glass. Yet it frequently happens that the shamrock is flooded in the last glass of St. Patrick's Day, and another last glass or two, or more, on the same night deluges the over-soddened trefoil. This is not "quite correct," but it is endeavoured to be remedied the next morning by the display of a fresh shamrock, which is steeped at night in honour of "Sheelah" with equal devotedness. — Every Day Book, vol. ii. p. 387.

While Sheelah is dismissed as Patrick's wife or mother here, the name immediately brings to mind Sheelah na Gig, though the similarity of the name alone is hardly much to rely on. We need to look at the broader picture: Like the Cailleach, who is associated with the final blasts of wintery storms around this time of year, and whose day on March 25th signifies the end of them, Sheelah (Síla, Sheelagh or Sheila) is associated with the storms too (or else Patrick is). Here's something from Newfoundland, for example:

About St. Patrick's Day [the sealers] start, most of them waiting until after Sheilah's brush or the equinoxial gale has passed…

Dictionary of Newfoundland 

Similarly, the term "Sheila's brush" (or "blush") refers to the "...fierce storm and heavy snowfall about the eighteenth of March," and she is described as walking the shore in a long white gown (i.e. of snow). In Ireland, it's said that if it snows on or around St. Patrick's Day, "Sheila is using her brush" (snow as dandruff!), and a German traveller touring around Ireland was told that Sheela-na-gi meant 'Sheela with (or of) the branch. Gi or gig in this instance may relate to géag, branch, so it seems there's a clear link between Sheelah and the idols found on so many churches and castles across Ireland. Interestingly, one of the alternative meanings of géag is an "image of girl (made for festival)."

Thinking back to the Cailleach, what does she do but roam the land with her wand (or mallet), hoping to maintain her wintry grip by using it to blast the vegetation? She is also associated with causing snow, with sayings such as "the Cailleach is going to tramp her blankets tonight" giving the most obvious evidence. Otherwise, she is milking her goats, or she has washed her shawl and left it to dry on the mountains, covering them in snow as she shakes it out.

All in all both the Cailleach and Sheelah have associations with the storms and harsh wintry weather that happen around this time, and which are seen as winter's last gasp. They both have days dedicated to them around this time, which happens to coincide with the equinox. And it so happens that the tomb of Loughcrew, on the hills of Sliabh na Caillich, have an equinoctial alignment too (just throwing that in there).

The similarities here are highly suggestive and extremely interesting. That's not to say that I think Patrick's Day is really pagan or anything like that, but there's a lot to ponder on. In particular, it all does bring up a lot of similarities between the Cailleach and Síla that I've always wondered about (see also).

Anyway. Whatever you're up to - or not - tomorrow (or they day after...), have a good one.

Là na Cailliche sona dhuibh!

So the Cailleach has thrown down her wand (or mallet) in disgust and spring is now officially here...

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. 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. Thilg mi ‘n slacan druidh donai, Am bun preis crin cruaidh conuis. Far nach fas fionn no foinnidh, Ach fracan froinnidh feurach.’

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.   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.   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.’

E.C. Watson

Là Fhèill Brìghde was cold and bright, and the weather ever since has been completely the opposite - warm, wet and cloudy - up until around the equinox last week. Now we have glorious sunshine, hazy views across the sea, and the garden is getting into its full swing. Yesterday, on Là na Cailliche, we all piled into the car and headed over to the fair that's in a neighbouring town - one of the last hangovers from the traditional trade fairs that would take place twice a year around the equinoxes, where people would go to find themselves gainful employment. Now it's just an opportunity to have fun and eat too many sweeties, and, if you're six and nearly five, it's time to have a go on as many rides or bouncy things as possible:

And go 'fishing' for Winnie the Pooh, prize guaranteed. Rosie chose bubbles:

(I would like to point out that I had nothing to do with putting that outfit together).

Back home, with the warm and dry weather it was time to give the veg a watering and see how they're all getting on. It's taken a while but the first lot of onions I put in are starting to sprout:

As are the peas. As yet the sprouts, leeks, carrots and second set of onions and peas are still thinking about it (I'm a bit worried that the seeds I've used for the leeks and some of the carrots may be out of date now, so they won't do anything, but oh well. There may be a few late harvests this year). I've lost a raspberry bush in the storms at the beginning of the year, but I still have the golden raspberry I planted last year and it seems to be settling in nicely, as is the blackcurrant. The rhubarb is looking a little sad and forlorn, but the rowan is proudly unfurling its leaves and some blossom buds:

Last year was the first time the tree blossomed and I left the berries to the birds to give them their due. This year I might harvest some for drying, depending how well the berries do.

The cowslip is going strong:

And a primrose I grew from seed last year survived! Just:

It's not all yellow in the garden, though:

But spring is well under way already. If this year is anything like last year, the late spring will be glorious and sunny and the summer itself will be a washout, so we're making the most of it right now.

It's my daughter's fifth birthday this coming weekend, then we have most of my family coming to visit for Easter, so things are very busy round here. There has been a lot of spring cleaning to get the house back in shape - I have been pretty incapacitated for the most of the year so far, but it seems that with a change in weather (and medications) things have improved a little. I'm a little more mobile now, so that's one thing, and after a winter of not being up to much the house needs some TLC - a few repairs need to be done, a few finishing touches that need to finally get seen to and so on. The patio has been pressure cleaned to remove the algae that had turned the concrete slabs green, the carpets have been cleaned, the spare room has been de-furred and claimed back from the dogs, and all the bedding has been washed. And the cupboard under the stairs has been bravely tackled. The cobwebs have been well and truly dusted away.

It's a glamorous life, I'm sure you'll agree...

Supermoon!

In Scottish tradition it's the new moon that's celebrated the most - that first sliver in the sky (known as gob soillse - ’the bill or beak of the light’) that heralds the waxing of the moon, and the period when lots of things can be done under more propitious circumstances; sowing seeds, getting married, setting out on journeys, cutting your hair. This is a time of increase and growth, and Alexander Carmichael recorded quite a few traditions and prayers dedicated to that first glimpse of the new moon. In Gaol Naofa, we celebrate the new moon with a ritual.

If the waxing moon is all about growth and increase, the full moon is the culmination of all this, and is known as bolg reothairt - ’the swollen womb of the spring tide.’ I have to admit I find the moon fascinating, and whenever I see it, I greet it, quietly to myself (because people would probably think I'm a bit mental otherwise). So all in all, the supermoon this weekend was something I was looking forward to.

Mr Seren and I were invited to a party this weekend, a kind of informal gathering in honour of the supermoon and the equinox, so we dumped the kids at the in-laws for the night and off we went. There was food and drink, and good lots of laughter, and since the host of the party is Wiccan I took the opportunity to bring over a load of old books I've had sitting on the wardrobe shelf since we moved here three years ago - I was hoping she'd give them a good home, or knew some folks who would if she didn't want them.

We didn't get to see the moon rise because there was too much cloud cover, but around 10pm or so the clouds cleared a little so we got to see the moon shining bright:

 
At around midnight we went outside with some Chinese lanterns that our hosts had bought - everyone was invited to choose one and write a wish on it, to send it off into the night sky, and I think most of us did. It was too windy to light the lanterns in view of the moon (Mr Seren's lantern went first and ended up in a bush for a while) so we had to take shelter round the back of the tenement building. Because of the wind it took a while to get them lit, and seeing as we had only two lighters between us all, they had to go off one by one. I waited patiently...:

 
...while mine was lit as I held onto it gently - we had to hold them pretty close to the ground for the fire to take. It had a bit of a bumpy start, but Mr Seren's friend Tam rescued it and managed to get it off the ground for me. I chose an orange lantern, but this red one here is the last one we all did together (except Mr Seren, who was in charge of the camera):

And off it went into the night with the others.

This is the start of my celebrations for Latha na Cailliche, really. I don't usually make much of a fuss - some offerings and devotions to the Cailleach and the Cailleachan - but I don't usually get to celebrate with other people either, so it was good to find a little bit of community, even if we were all from different paths.

When we got home that night I went straight off to bed, and didn't get much sleep thanks to my back and left leg not appreciating the journey in the car to much. I gave up trying to sleep and got up early, and as I pottered about in the kitchen, saw that one of the busy lizzies I've sown for the hanging basket had sprouted. Because of my recent back problems I haven't been able to do much in the garden yet, so this is the only sowing I've done so far. It was good timing to see that tiny sprout, although I'm hoping I'll be able to get around to doing more sowing for the vegetable garden soon.

Spring is definitely here, even if we did have snow, hail and sleet only last week.

Speaking of the Cailleach, I received a letter from Perth and Kinross Council acknowledging receipt of my objection about the proposed hydro-electric scheme that will affect Tigh nam Bodach etc. Very formal and stern it is, too, but I'll be informed of the council's decision in due course, although it didn't say when that might be.

With unerring predictability

Yeah well...It started chewing at me, wanting to be written, so write it I did...

I decided to write an article on Latha na Caillich after all, mainly because I had a few thoughts I wanted to get straight in my head, and as usual, writing it out is the best way for me to figure things out. So in a way it's more of an opinion piece than I usually do - you may or may not agree.

Seeing as it's still fecking freezing round these parts - we've had snow again this week, and the ice and wind resulted in power cuts and who knows what's happened to the phones - I've not actually done anything for it yet. I'm going to make some formal offerings, but given the weather I think I'll wait for the Old Style date, April 6th, to do that.

Latha na Caillich - notes

I've been trying to find some good sources on Latha na Caillich - something definitive on its origins and any customs associated with it - but I've not come up with much, other than passing mentions. On the one hand this is pretty much what I expected. On the other, it's a little frustrating.

I was hoping to get something down in writing before the day, but life got in the way of that plan...Seeing as I haven't got much, I thought I'd share the few resources I've found, in quote form, for anyone who's interested in hunting up some information on the day.

While it's referred to as Latha na Caillich(e), March 25th, it also coincides with Lady Day, the Feast of the Annunciation (when the archangel Gabriel appears to Mary to tell her that she is with child). Before 1600, March 25th was the official New Year in Scotland, and the 'official', fixed date for the Spring equinox. In England, Lady Day was the spring quarter day, which was marked at the beginning of February in Scotland, so the dating may have some English influence in terms of marking the start of spring proper. Carmichael notably makes no mention of Latha na Caillich, and instead has Mary or Bride as the agent of spring who finally defeats the cold.

It seems that much of the lore surrounding the season was meant to determine when it was best to start the sowing of certain crops that needed to avoid frost, or else marking when the danger of storms at sea had passed and everyone could be a little more confident of returning home with a good catch.

Seeing as Latha na Caillich comes from Scottish tradition, the sources are naturally skewed to Scotland, but I've found a few notes on Lady Day in Ireland as well, which I've included for comparison. Seeing as I've already posted Grant's notes on the Cailleach from Myth, Tradition and Story from Western Argyll, I won't post them again here, but they're worth a read for some context, since MacKenzie makes mention of it below.

The excerpts I've given are listed in chronological order, with Scottish sources and then Irish references to Lady Day. And so without further ado: