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.

Mothers of Modern Ireland

With a tip of the hat to Laurel for posting this on the Gaelic Polytheism group on FB:

'Mothers of Modern Ireland: A People's History' is a landmark film oral archive of Irish grandmothers now available online. 

Over the past five years, independent filmmakers have been recording the oral histories of 32 grandmothers from across Ireland. They have now assembled a landmark film archive which can be viewed at mothersofmodernireland.com.

A People's History recounts events in Ireland's history and culture from women’s perspective

The website's easy to navigate and the videos cover a number of subject like cures, ghost stories, sex, death, and emigration and immigration. I've only viewed a couple but there's some interesting stuff there. The direct link is:

Mothers of Modern Ireland

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.

Book of Kells online

Well at least there's something good that's come of this year's impending Paddy's Day madness:

Book of Kells online

I don't know if it's because I'm on a mac (or just because my poor mac is old and decrepit) but the website seems a wee bit buggy (the scrolling down is a little hit and miss for me). There's and iPad app you can download, though, which seems pretty neat and has added commentary on it:

Book of Kells app

Alas, I'm skint so I haven't tried it out but if I ever do have €11.99 going spare I'm certainly tempted!