traditions – Page 3 – don't confuse the narrator

to every thing there is a season

We’ve had plenty of grey and wet weather recently, but very little that has been really wintery. On Tuesday afternoon it was utterly glorious, so I sneaked out for a walk in the park. I tried to make the most of the time by also making phone calls, including one to my aged mother, who reminded me that it was Candlemas. Perhaps I should have known: the snowdrops – also known as Candlemas bells – had already been in full flower for a week or more.

I am extraordinarily fortunate in that my mother is a fount of country lore and traditions. The older she gets, the more she seems to remember of things she learned as a child.
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after michaelmas

The Michaelmas daisies have been in flower for weeks, but that’s a poor excuse for having completely forgotten that it was Michaelmas – the Feast of St Michael and all Angels – on September 29th.
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nostalgia

I took this picture a couple of weeks ago and was looking for an excuse to post it to the blog.

snake's head fritillary Fritillaria meleagris

When I was checking what the flowers are – Fritillaria meleagris, the snakes-head fritillary – I discovered that tomorrow, April 27th, St Bartholomew’s Church in Ducklington is celebrating Fritillary Sunday. There will be “Morris dancing and musical interludes”, as well as cream teas and ploughman’s lunches in the village hall.

L.P. Hartley was wrong: the past is not a foreign country; it is where I was born and I’m feeling quite homesick.

clap your hands

Do the children of today believe in fairies? Do they know they should be caught in flight and the wish will only come true if the “fairy” – the seed – is still at the heart of the thistledown?

Last week, I found a veritable fairy factory along by the river, although most of them hadn’t yet left the plant – pun very much intended – so they weren’t quite ready to grant any wishes:

Now I’m off to find a copy of Peter Pan to re-read. And although I’m afraid I gave away my copy of Charlotte’s Web years ago, maybe I can track down the ballooning spiderlings scene online.

St Swithin’s Day

St. Swithin’s day if thou dost rain
For forty days it will remain;
St. Swithin’s day if thou be fair
For forty days ’twill rain nae mair

Judging from the colour of the sky behind the apples, we’re in for a long hot summer.

Mind you, the (Spanish) Catholic santoral doesn’t seem to list the very English St Swithin, so perhaps it doesn’t count here.

Instead they tell me today is San Buenaventura, a saint known for his “simplicity, humility and charity”. Since he seems unlikely to provide the rain needed for apple christening, perhaps it’s just as well we fixed the tap in the orchard at the weekend.