The Solstice, Yule, and.........Wassailing!

Winter Solstice Blessings to All!

Although I very far from any apple trees in the American Southwest, I still like to make Wassail around this time of year.   And then there is also the Pagan tradition of Wassailing, which I cherish (even though there aren't any apple trees).  

"Wassailing" participates in the notion of living in a  “conversant” world for me,  something I've so often thought about as I read about folk traditions, mythologies, and old customs.   Instead of seeing "nature" as "other", or a "resource",  earlier times and peoples often had a mythic, friendly and "reciprocal"  relationship with the extended community of life they inhabited.  

Although Wassail is a spiced cider drink, often with brandy added and served hot, originally it's presence included the  Yuletide custom of  singing to the trees, in particular, the orchards  of apple trees from which the celebratory drink came.  The spiced cider was offered  to honor the trees,  and  traditional wassail would be prepared – soaking pieces of bread, cake or toast in it – and Wassailers would travel from apple orchard to apple orchard singing carols to the trees, in order to demonstrate appreciation for the harvest being enjoyed.  Wassail-soaked pieces of bread or toast were then left at the trees’ roots or hung in the trees’ branches to appease the tree spirits and feed them well until the next harvest.

When we talk to the trees, the  animals, even stones, and celebrate their generosity………..we might just  notice that we get a response sometimes!  For example, there is the old English custom  of “telling the bees” when someone has died in a farm family, and there are actually documented cases of a swarm of bees turning up at the funeral.  

“Wassailing” has a tradition of  singing to trees in celebration of Christmas, or, with origins that came before the advent of Christianity, the Winter Solstice.  Who is  to say that the apple trees don’t enjoy being part of the festivities? How would our world be a different place if we saw apple trees as being our generous friends, or inviting bees to the funerals of those they have lived among for so long?  From that perspective, one walks into one's garden or orchard or forest finding friends of all kinds - the world becomes "re-enchanted".

Like the Romans'  offerings on small farm shrines dedicated  to the "Numina", the spirits of place that assisted them with their crops and orchards (the indigenous Roman Goddess Pomona, whose name meant "apple",  originated as a Numen of the orchards), this custom, which is still practiced with a lot of good cheer  in some rural areas of  England, reflects that ancient pagan sense of "reciprocity" with an intelligent, spiritually  inhabited natural world.

From a lovely Blog about Wassailing in Somerset, UK, I take the liberty of sharing this:

"Wassailing dates back to Anglo-Saxon times, traditionally taking place on Twelfth Night (originally the 17 January, before the introduction of the Gregorian Calendar in 1752). The centuries-old ritual has Pagan roots and is intended to awaken the apple trees from their winter slumber. This involves blessing the orchards, reciting incantations, dancing, singing traditional songs and clattering pots and pans to scare away evil spirits and secure a bountiful apple harvest come autumn.  ..........Traditions vary slightly from place to place but usually, the wassail starts at dusk and is sometimes led by a Wassail King or Queen. Branches of the trees may be hit to frighten away evil spirits, cider is often poured on the roots of the oldest tree and pieces of toast, cake or bread are put into the branches to feed the good spirits or entice robins – believed to be the ‘guardians of the orchard’.   Afterwards, the trees of the orchard are serenaded with songs, Morris dancing and tasting the wassail drink."

And here's a description I found about Wassailing in Whimple, Devon, England that takes place annually:  

 Our ritual follows the traditional well-tried and tested ceremony of our predecessors with the Mayor in his robes of office and the Princess carrying lightly toasted bread in her delicately trimmed flasket, whilst the Queen, wearing her crown of Ivy, Lichen and Mistletoe, recites the traditional verse. The original Whimple Incantation has been retained:

Here's to thee, old apple tree, that blooms well, and bears well.  Hats full, caps full, three bushel bags full, an' all under one tree!  Hurrah! Hurrah!

Her Majesty is then gently but manfully assisted up the tree in order to place the cider-soaked toast in the branches whilst the assembled throng, accompanied by a group of talented musicians, sing the Wassail Song and dance around the tree. The Mulled Cider or 'Wassail Cup' is produced and everyone takes a sample with their 'Clayen Cup'.

I read recently  that our habit of "toasting" may go back to Wassail revelries.  "Waes hael"  revelers would say,  from the Old English term  meaning "be well".  Eventually  "wassail" referred less to the greeting and more to the drink.  The contents of the Wassail bowl varied, but a popular one was known as 'lambs wool'. It consisted of hot ale, roasted crab apples, sugar, spices, eggs, and cream served with little pieces of toast. It was the toast floating on the top that made it look like lamb's wool.  The toast that was traditionally floated atop the wassail eventually became our "toast" -  when you hold up your glass and announce, “Let’s have a toast,”  or  ”I’ll toast to that,” you’re remembering this very old ritual of floating a bit of toast in spiced ale or mulled wine or wassail in celebration.

Wassailing – visiting neighbors (and much appreciated, friendly trees), singing carols  and sharing warmed drink – is a tradition related to the Winter Solstice with ancient roots indeed.  

I found a good Wassail recipe, which I've taken the liberty of sharing at the end of this post.  I don't know if I'll be going out to sing to the Saguaros  this Solstice, being no longer in rural England,  but who knows what I might end up doing if I drink enough Wassail with brandy.  

I'm sure the Saguaros wouldn't mind the attention.  Happy Wassailing!

Photo by Martin Beebee

 

Apple Tree (and why not Saguaros too?)  Wassailing Chants and Rhymes

Compiled in The Stations of the Sun by Ronald Hutton

From the South Hams of Devon, recorded 1871: 

Here's to thee, old apple tree,
Whence thou mayst bud
And whence thou mayst blow!
And whence thou mayst bear apples enow!
Hats full! Caps full!
Bushel--bushel--sacks full,
And my pockets full too! Huzza!

From Cornworthy, Devon, recorded 1805:

Huzza, Huzza, in our good town
The bread shall be white, and the liquor be brown
So here my old fellow I drink to thee
And the very health of each other tree.
Well may ye blow, well may ye bear
Blossom and fruit both apple and pear.
So that every bough and every twig
May bend with a burden both fair and big
May ye bear us and yield us fruit such a stores
That the bags and chambers and house run o'er.

Cider apples on the ground in orchard in Somerset, United Kingdom
(image courtesy https://downsomersetway.co.uk/best-places-to-take-part-in-a-somerset-wassail/)

 Yield: 10-12 servings,  Prep Time: 5 minutes, Cook Time: 4 hours

Wassail Recipe

Ingredients:

• 1 gallon Apple Cider
• 4 cups orange juice
• 4 hibiscus tea bags
• 10 cinnamon sticks
• 1 tsp. whole cloves
• 1 Tb. juniper berries
• 1 1/2 inch piece of fresh ginger, cut into slices
• 1 apple, sliced into rounds
• 1 orange, sliced into rounds

Directions:

1. Place all the ingredients in a slow cooker and cover.
2. Turn the slow cooker on high heat and cook for 3-4 hours, until the color has darkened and the fruit is soft. Remove the tea bags and serve hot.

Glastonbury Abbey

Another tourist moment, this time the ruined Abbey of Glastonbury.  At one time this great Gothic Cathedral was the primary pilgrimage point of England, a powerful and magnificent church with a population of many monks and pilgrims.  Supposedly the bodies of King Arthur and his Queen Guinevere were buried here, within the church.  Henry the 8th (who, I have to say, looked a lot like Donald Trump)  put an end to that when he defied the Catholic Church, and the Abbott of Glastonbury unfortunately then defied him.  The Abbott's defiance resulted in his death by hanging in the Tor, and the Cathedral was gradually torn down, many of the stones, carvings, and beautiful stained glass windows dismantled and sold off.  

Even so, the great Abbey is still a magnificent and imposing sight, beautiful, peaceful, and just a bit full of the presence of those worshippers who travelled so far and so long ago.

Reconstruction of monk's kitchen

Reconstruction of monk's kitchen

Vegetable garden

"If You Gotta Believe in Something" .......

Brilliant video by Nina Paley!

https://youtu.be/0pjJEtA3Br4

Salisbury Cathedral

This is pure tourist joy, this post.  No reflections, no commentary, just some photos from my trip to Salisbury and the magnificent Gothic  Salisbury Cathedral.  Unfortunately we were not able to take photos of the interior as a service was going on, but I was able to take photos of a Nave, the courtyard, and an area that must at one time have been the Cloister where the priests or monks lived.  And I had a chance to hear the choir sing inside - the acoustics are amazing.

I am as ever astounded by the rising ceilings of these Cathedrals. which seem to me to resemble, and be modelled upon, trees rising up.  I actually find a great deal that is "vegetative" about the shapes, the interior shapes at least, of the Cathedral, if not the ascending towers of the exterior.  The ancient Cathedral of Salisbury is certainly an awesome work of art and accomplishment, once the towering and beautiful center of the city.

This is a contemporary statue of a saint that stands outside the Cathedral.  I do not know who she is....once there was a plaque, but it seems to be gone, that described the statue.  But she has great presence there.  

One of the Personae of Salisbury, hidden away in a corner.  An angel?  But there are no wings.  She holds vessel with perhaps water........perhaps she represents St. Brigid, who was always associated with wells.

I love the floor too, being an artist who has made tiles.  

The installation of some contemporary sculptures look quite odd in the Cloister courtyard, in contrast to such history.   

 

This is from a room that has a running Biblical story above each arch, carved in marble.  This one is "Adam and Eve".  Under each arch is also a face, which I assume was meant to represent local people who were involved somehow with the construction of the Cathedral.  Some of them are quite funny, in contrast with the seriousness of the stories they underlie.  This one especially made me laugh.........he looks like he's rather cynical about the whole "Adam and Eve" thing.  Or maybe he's leering. 

 As awesome as these great Gothic Cathedrals are, they are not without their touches of humor too.

And there was a kind of bench with special embroidered cushions in one of the Naves, each dedicated to an Angel or to a Saint.  I found them beautiful, and wondered if they were kind of like "reserving a seat of honor" for these holy ones.

The Sacred Springs of Glastonbury: The Chalice Well

the Chalice Well

Glastonbury is a place of very ancient pilgrimage indeed, long before the coming of Christianity and the great (now ruined thanks to Henry the 8th)  Cathedral of Glastonbury.  There is evidence it was a place of pilgrimage into prehistoric times, perhaps before the coming of the Romand to Great Britain.  It is Avalon,  the source of the Arthurian legends,  the tales of Merlin and the Lady of the Lake.  

Once the Tor was actually surrounded by a lake, and pilgrims visited the sacred springs associated with this highly empowered land, now called the "Red Spring" and the "White Spring" for healing.  The Chalice Well is still greatly revered by pilgrims (like myself) who come here from all over the world to visit the Wells and the Chalice Garden, to drink the water and take some home as a blessing.  The red color is iron oxide being deposited by the springs - the white spring deposits calcium, leaving a white tinge as it passes over.     

"There is an especially strong tradition of sacred wells in the Celtic nations; in Ireland alone, a survey carried out in the 1940's recorded as many as 3,000 of them.  These wells once were thought of as gateways to the Celtic Otherworld......................These springs and wells,  which originated in the Otherworld,  would once have been dedicated to the goddesses  of the land:  in Ireland, to the goddess Brigid, in the north of England, to Coventina."

........Sharon Blackie, "If Women Rose Rooted" (2016)

As when I visited 7 years ago, I made my prayers, and gave my gratitude, to the Lady of Avalon, to the Ancestors, and to the great Numina of this place.  The Garden is lovely, as poignant for me in the winter of 2018  as it was in the summer of 2011.  Here one is infused with the deep life-giving vitality of the land, the plants, and the Waters there, the life running beneath the stones, deeply rooted, the buds on the leafless trees full of dreaming vitality.  

I meditated for a while, then walked around a bit.  What popped into my mind was odd - the words "Covenant Garden".  What could "covenant garden" mean, and why had I thought of it?  Thought of the ancient name of the Goddess of the land, Coventina, from which the word itself may be derived (I should look that up).  I couldn't think of any other reference until much later, until I considered that the word Covenant, like "coven", "convening" etc.  refers to a gathering of people to reach an harmonious agreement, which can include an agreement that is holy or religious in some way.    Such as the famous "Ark of the Covenant", which was supposed to hold sacred writings and objects of veneration, as well as "God's sustanance for man" which was called Manna.   Manna was the food, variously described as different substances, that was provided to feed the people; it has also come to be used to mean a kind of numinous power.   According to Wikipedia:

The Ark of the Covenant (Hebrew: אָרוֹן הַבְּרִית, Modern: Arōn Ha'brēt, Tiberian: ʾĀrôn Habbərîṯ), also known as the Ark of the Testimony, is a gold-covered wooden chest with lid cover described in the Book of Exodus as containing the two stone tablets of the Ten Commandments. According to various texts within the Hebrew Bible, it also contained Aaron's rod and a pot of manna.^[1] Hebrews 9:4 describes: "The ark of the covenant [was] covered on all sides with gold, in which was a golden jar holding the manna, and Aaron's rod which budded, and the tables of the covenant."^[2]

"ASHARAH" Sculpture by David Hostetler

Interesting.  The Garden of the sacred wells is indeed full of holy things that represent "harmonious agreement" between all aspects of the Earth, including the two-legged beings that come there.  And "Manna" is the food provided by the Garden, by nature, and by Gaia.  A "rod that blooms".............could also be seen as the ancient Hebrew and Middle Eastern  Goddess Asherah, who was represented as a tree, and  often represented in the days of the old testament as a rod,  or "Asherah pole".  The practice of carrying "Asherah poles" was apparently fairly common in the early days of the Semite tribes, although the Patriarchs later eliminated this custom, and the Goddess, from the religion as the Semite deity became exclusively male.  

A Garden represents, truly, a "Covenant", a holy agreement, between all beings of the present, human, animal, plant, soil, air, rain, water.......

A happy and successful garden is a harmonious Ecosystem.  A garden survives and thrives through a network of interdependant and interconnected relationships.  In a healthy garden plants and trees interact with each other and communicate with each other through a vast underground weaving of roots and fungi which connect the members of the garden flora community, and contribute to the lives of the many fauna that participate in the community:  the bees and other pollinators, the worms and other insects that assist in the decay process.  And the birds that assist in distributing seed as well.  Not to mention the humans that may plant, sow, admire, and occasionally eat the stray apple or strawberry as well.

It could be said that a Garden is a "Covenant" achieved by many beings, a divine agreement.

THE GARDEN OF THE COVENANT. 

Below is the Chalice, and the Heart, and what appears to be a Dragon flying as well, carved on a chair there.  

And here is my bit of Magic........... as I was getting ready to leave, I saw this tiny metallic green heart on the ground.  I was going to take it as a "Green Heart" Talisman, to remind me of my moment there in the "Covenant Garden" of the Chalice.  But then I thought, perhaps someone left it as a kind of offering, and it wasn't right for me to take it.  I put it back on the ground and took a picture.  I was amazed to see this light surrounding it in the photo!  So I took two more - they came out the same!  

I left feeling truly moved.  The Earth is Speaking to us, all the time.  

A Green Heart at the Chalice Well

Pilsbury: Circles, Syncronicities, Family

Here is a tale of Synchronicity, and Circles within in Circles  (as I also happened to be  incidentally hunting ley lines, Stone Circles, and Harvest Hills that represent the pregnant belly of the Great Earth Mother throughout Avebury and the  moors of the Peak District..........)

MOTHERS

Where to begin?  Way back,  I think, to when I was just 18, and  I became pregnant.  The only option I felt was to give up my daughter for adoption, realizing that I was neither mature nor able enough to become a mother.   22 years later I was contacted, and we met, amazingly, some 30 miles away from where I was living for the summer as I worked at the New York Renaissance Faire.  She was graduating from College near there,  and it was my privilege to meet her as  well as her adoptive parents that year. 

Her mother  and I became friends over the years, although we both moved around and contact was not very often.  My relationship with my  daughter has been a blessing, although a  disappointment as well.   Although she seems to want to keep a loose connection with me,  we never really developed intimacy.   Over the years, especially since I am only the biological mother,  I have  withdrawn from attempting to keep up more than a  superficial relationship,  and I have consoled my disappointment by knowing that she is successful in her career, has a good income, lots of friends,  and a bright. creative child she loves.  

Just before leaving  for this trip I received an email from her mother, who had seen that I was going to England on Facebook.   I learned that she had married an Englishman and moved to a small town in the middle of England, in what they call the Peak District.  She and her husband  invited me to visit her.   After  attending the Gatekeeper's  conference I found myself at the bus depot in Bath, where I had booked a hostel after seeing the Roman Bath there. 

In the bus depot I  watched a little tribe of pigeons peck away at my feet while I considered whether I shouldn't head north instead of staying in Bath as I had intended.  It would be good to see my friend, who I hadn't seen or much spoken to in almost 20 years.   I was also momentarily enchanted by the birds, because one of them  was pure white.  I thought "what is a white dove doing here?".........(well, I suppose it was a  pure white pigeon, but after all, pigeons are in the dove family! ) I wished I had something to offer it because it was so pretty, but alas, I had no crumbs on me.

The next morning I took a train toward Manchester, and met with them in their  village.  The Peak District, in central Great Britain, is  famous for it's beautiful landscapes and hiking trails, and in the summer  the English, who have a great passion for walking tours, head there.  We talked about many things, and I know that our re-connecting after all these years helped both of us to better understand our daughter, and to heal a great deal for both of us.  Circle.  Big Circle.  I parted with a friendship renewed, and gratitude. The timing could not have been more perfect.

Pilsbury Grange

ANCESTORS

So here come the synchronicities.................

While looking at a map of the area where my friend lived (which I had never visited) I noticed, quite close to their village, a "Pilsbury".  I thought that was interesting, since that is my family name (Pillsbury).  I knew absolutely nothing about my father's genealogy, but this piqued my interest, and before going to visit, I spent the evening on Google.  I learned that there were many Pillsburys besides the well-known bakers from Minnesota, and many of them had done great things - a famous inventor, a photographer, a philosopher and humanitarian, and many more.  The family was big and spanned the coasts - there was a Lake Pillsbury in New Hampshire, and a Lake Pillsbury in Northern California as well.  And they were all descendants (that includes me) of one man who emigrated quite early from England.

I stumbled on a document of births, deaths, and occasional obituaries collected by a Martha Pillsbury over 100 years ago, going back (as far as she could at the time) to one William Pillsbury, a young man who, under some kind of legal trouble or perhaps facing conscription during the reign of the tyrannical Charles the First,  left England for the New World in the 1600's, considerably before the American Revolution. He landed in Massachusetts, an indentured servant (as that was how one paid for passage then), and eventually settled in a very frontier like Newbury, Mass.  He and his children proliferated indeed, in Massachusetts and New Hampshire and continually west as well.  

That document, uploaded in it's entirety, was a lot to  plow through, but I couldn't stop reading it out of sheer interest.  William Pillsbury (people took names based upon their trade, where they lived, or the names of their fathers when it was decreed in an earlier period that residents have surnames.)  He was from the Peak District, and she mentions the River Dove.   It seems that the little hamlet of Pilsbury, not far from where my friend lives, is where every Pillsbury in the United States originated from.  The lovely valley that the Pilsbury hamlet is in is called Dovedale.

We drove to Pilsbury, of course.  There is a Pilsbury Castle, a historical site with plans to refurbish, although there isn't really much to see.   It was a Norman fortification, not really a "castle" so much as a mostly wooden fort with very simple dwellings surrounding it along the river.  It would have mostly been occupied by Norman soldiers  garrisoned in this outpost when the Normans were fighting the Saxons.  To get to Pilsbury one has to drive along some small, winding roads, which involve opening and closing 4 or 5 gates, which are erected to keep cattle and sheep from wandering into areas they should not go.   I also learned that there are ruins in the area that indicate their might have been a monastery, or simple monastic community, in Pilsbury in medieval times as well, hence, the term "grange", which meant a rural area associated with  or overseen by a church.

Finally we found ourselves at the last gate, and came  upon what was collectively called "Pilsbury Grange".  We  were just in time to meet the land agent for a family that lives in London and rents out Pilsbury Lodge to visitors who come for walking tours in the "Peaks", as well as  some excellent trout fishing  in the river. It is a lovely site, with a deeply peaceful feel to it.   One of three houses or manors that may have first been constructed in medieval times, and were renovated continuously to the present time, are occupied.  The land agent  kindly showed us around the large three story house that was unoccupied unless rented for holidays, or occupied by the family living in London.  It is a three storied impressive manor which features massive  ancient beams and a number of small  bedrooms.  I couldn't help but fantasize a group meeting there for a retreat, enjoying the river, the garden, the fireplaces and the apple orchard.

Interior of one of houses in Pilsbury

The following day we visited again, this time. coincidentally,  with a  friend of my friend (they do bell ringing together!) and her husband who lived in the other house next to the Lodge.  This ancient dwelling has been extensively renovated by this couple, who have lived there for some 20 years and truly love this peaceful, isolated rural site along the Dove.  When he heard me speak,  he told me that, hearing my American accent, he figured another Pillsbury had turned up.  It seems that  he has had a number of such visitors over the years, and he even provided a collection of articles and photos which other Pillsbury visitors provided him with in gratitude for his hospitality since 1989.  

It seems that the Pillsburys have a homing instinct.

Grate over well in Pilsbury Grange

I don't know what to say about all of this.........it's quite Circular and synchronistic, and I somehow feel that a deeper honoring and connection has happened that I will understand better in the future.  I do note, by the way, that many of my photos have strange white spots in them.............I am of a romantic nature, and like to think it is a "thumbprint" of the ancestors, saying "hello" as yet another of their fortunate, and grateful, descendants turns up.



ps:  I received an email from my friend in Darbyshire;  she has a friend living in her village, an American named Deborah from Newbury, Massachusetts and also Boston.  She was apparently so interested in my adventure that she looked up her own geneology tree, and learned that one of her ancestors had married a Mathias Pillsbury (her own name is not Pillsbury).  Pretty amazing!

Pilsbury Grange

View from house and apple tree towards valley and river in November

View from walled garden area