Buzzards, boulders and the return of the May Queen #1

The last week of April and the first week of May have here in Derbyshire as in other parts of the UK, been notable for the somewhat unseasonal warmth and sunshine. This has given many of us a valued opportunity to explore our local countryside once again.

This has also proved to be a most eventful time for us in the Hearth of the Turning Wheel. During the latter week of April, we twice explored the wonderful Derbyshire Peak District, on our second trip meeting up with friends from another Clan. Then on Mayday itself, we marked the return to our Hearth of a dear one, a much valued and missed member who has rested from active participation for some years.

So it was in preparation for our Maytide ritual and rite of re-admission, that the Hearth Pixie and myself made the first journey to Stanton Moor, just inside the Peak. Our aim being to both check the directions to and the suitability of our chosen site for the planned ritual. Parking near to Birchover it was only a short walk to our destination, a small circle of six stones hidden in woodland. Although this was not my first visit, my taxi driver, sorry I mean my companion Pixie, had not visited this circle before. She found herself truly enchanted by its charm and understandably so.

Doll Tor and obviously, it is Doll if you know the Peak, is a charming circle hidden from the road in woodland down a slight incline. There are truly beautiful views of Youlgreave and Bradford from the woodland, a prospect of great delight on a bright summer-warm day. My companion derived no small amount of joy from this visit, sitting in the circle for quite some time after I had done what I had felt necessary to do on entering the site.

The site has a chequered history, damaged, desecrated and neglected until finally rebuilt by archaeologists and rediscovered by the local Pagan community. Today Doll Tor is a dearly loved site, sometimes difficult to find it remains far more private than the nearby Nine Ladies.

After our all too brief visit that was probably not as brief as it actually felt and lunch at the well-known Cauldwell’s Mill vegetarian restaurant, we spent a short time watching the blacksmith at work. We found ourselves truly fascinated by his craft and his creation, his own personal blackthorn walking stick, topped with an iron Derby Ram. Moving on and perhaps rather ambitiously having just eaten, we set out to climb the fairy hill that is Peak Tor. This is my favourite hill in the Peak, a conical and steep outcrop, topped with beech and oak, it dominates the landscape near Rowsley. It is a steep climb depending on from which side you choose to approach and as we reached the summit, we were greeted by sunlight dappled trees and bluebells in full bloom.

The views from the Tor are worth the climb, looking down on the Wye and across to the trees hiding Haddon, with Chatsworth only a short distance away on the other side of the hills, it is a beautiful place. We spent some time taking in the vista, fields, rivers, trees and hills. There is an atmosphere here at the top where the hill flattens out. From below, looking up Peak Tor calls to you, inviting you to climb and embrace the very hill itself. It is otherworldly.

So ended our first trip, a fact-finding orientation taking in two of my favourite places in the Peak or three if you count the restaurant. Both Doll Tor and Peak Tor have that effect of making you not want to leave them, they enchant and bewitch visitors, casting their own spell upon those they welcome.

The Springtide and the coming of the May

For those of us living in the so-called developed world, it is difficult and perhaps impossible, to ignore the current focus of both the secular and Christian world. Those of us within Paganism and the Craft however, may hold a different perspective on current trends.

Much of the secular world and indeed our own Christian friends have been focused upon the Eastertide, the great observance and celebration of renewal and the promise of new life. Although falling this year in April and later than what is perhaps usual, the associated symbolism is still decidedly spring-like.

We in the Hearth have a somewhat different calendar. Our own spring observance, a celebration of the mid-point rather than the beginning of spring, was some weeks ago. Our focus now is very much on the coming of the May.

Many today know the spring equinox as Ostara or Eostre, the name of a Saxon Goddess of the Spring, a balance to the autumn equinox known by the name of a Celtic God, Mabon. For many years now, I have been uneasy using these names, preferring to call the equinoxes as exactly that, the equinoxes. It is a personal choice.

If ones’ practice is influenced by one culture or another, be it Saxon or Celt, then there is an argument for using one of these titles. I myself lean perhaps more towards the Saxon than the Celt and find admittedly, Ostara somewhat more acceptable as the name of a festival than Mabon, even though I rarely use it.

The adoption of these names for our contemporary festivals by many, without a close examination of their origin, reflects that sad mid-Atlantic and perhaps “Wiccanesque” standardisation of practice prevalent in contemporary Paganism. I for one prefer to celebrate our regional differences.

Ostara or Eostre is an enigmatic Goddess whose origin is unknown and if it was not for some brief mention by Bede, her name would be lost to us. We know so little about her historically, that it is luck that her name has survived to lend itself to both the Pagan and Christian spring festival. We could so easily be calling both festivals by very different names.

However, it is not the name that matters but the associated symbolism and the related meaning. Ostara or Eostre, is most likely a localised manifestation of the Goddess of Spring, celebrations in whose honour can be deduced from history and based on the evidence available to us, calling this spring festival Ostara, may have more validity than calling the autumn equinox Mabon.

Ostara is a Goddess with a meaning that is cross-cultural and universal, as are the symbols associated with the spring. The egg as a symbol of renewal and birth, crosses the same cultural boundaries. The Easter Bunny, a well known corruption of the Sacred Hare, leads us to draw comparisons with other “Hare Goddesses” and is yet another symbol with a wealth of meaning. Neither the egg nor the hare uniquely belong to the new religion but have been grafted on through folklore and tradition to become elements of a Christian Easter.

The second focus that the world currently appears obsessed with is quite obviously the wedding of the future heir to the English throne. The close proximity of Easter, with the feast day of Saint George falling between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, followed by a second Bank Holiday for the wedding at the beginning of the May Day weekend, has given many of us the opportunity to celebrate everything quintessentially English.

While on the one hand the spring like elements incorporated within the symbolism and celebration of Easter might appear somewhat out of season. The celebration of the marriage of a future king so close to May Day, with all its royal associations linked to the Oak King and the romantic and indeed sexual nature of Beltaine itself, merely seeks to emphasise the forcefully energetic elements found within these inter-related events.

The Maytide is near upon us and it is a time of celebration. It is a time to honour whichever royal house you favour, whether it is the House of Windsor or the House of the Greenwood.

FFF&F. Magpie.

"Broadsword" by Jethro Tull

Åsgårdsreien by Peter Nicolai Arbo

I see a dark sail on the horizon.

Set under a black cloud that hides the sun.

Bring me my broadsword and clear understanding.
Bring me my cross of gold as a talisman.
Get up to the roundhouse on the cliff-top standing.
Take women and children and bed them down.

Bring me my broadsword and clear understanding.
Bring me my cross of gold as a talisman.
Bless with a hard heart those who surround me.
Bless the women and children who firm our hands.
Put our backs to the north wind. Hold fast by the river.
Sweet memories to drive us on for the motherland.

Peacocks, Buzzards and Crows

The beginning of April, Mothering Sunday and a fine day full of sunshine and hope. I am collected late morning by friends whose friendship is itself both a surprise and a pleasure, we journey back in time through English history and over the border to Tutbury.

Here, we discover much to our delight that this ancient Norman castle is open to the public, it being the first day of the season. Approaching from the outer bailey we see buzzards soaring above, sweeping over us in courtship and shrieking a royal welcome as we arrive at the gate. There are warning signs advising the public not to cross the defensive ditch by any route other that the bridge, there is a ram in the ditch. We never get to see that ram but I can't help hoping he is a black one.

Another royal bird, heard but never seen, serenades our arrival and delights us with its call as we explore the Jewel that is Tutbury. The peacock, the bird of Juno and others shrills out from behind the towers. Hidden from view he is another Jewel waiting to be found. A bird of sun and stars and as ever watchful as the thousand eyes on his tale.

Above us the ever present birds of wisdom and fate circle as we climb the towers, appreciating the land about us, the distant views and the sense of history gained by visiting a place such as Tutbury. Once this was the home of the De Ferrers and then later the Dukes of Lancaster, now famous as a one time prison of Mary of Scotland, this castle saw battle in more than one civil war before it was slighted by Cromwell.

Much has been lost yet much remains, like Paganism, Folklore and the Craft, a puzzle to be deciphered, reconstituted and rediscovered on a quest to understand. Every bird and heraldic beast tells us a story and leads us to a moment of  wonder, each tribe had its totem, each family its crest, we each our own badge choose or more usually, have it chosen for us.

Ticknall March 2011

The spring marches on as the weather warms and the greenery of the local countryside continues to deepen. This I observed today as I enjoyed a short walk with a friend through the woods near Ticknall. Our walk ran along the edge of the Calke Abbey estate, formally owned by the Harpur-Crewe family. The woodland where we explored bears the scars of 18th century lime workings, complete with trails, tunnels, bridges and deep pits. Yet nature has reclaimed what is in effect an old industrial site. Rare plants, clematis, orchid and others now grow here, the bird life is abundant and the deer roam free. Nature can perhaps be tamed but not indefinitely, nature will eventually take back the land from the hand of man, to leave little or no sign of our passing.

This part of our county was once replete with families of note, baronets and earls. There are houses and churches of fine architectural appearance, many bearing heraldic devices of fascination. In Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire as in other counties, the stag is one of the most noticeable heraldic beasts. The fairies' own White Hart and the Horned God of the underworld roams in splendour to this day. The families that bore him as a crest have like the lime workings, mostly gone but he remains, present and tangible.

"What shall he have that kill'd the deer?
His leather skin and horns to wear.
Then sing him home:
[The rest shall bear this burden.]
Take thou no scorn to wear the horn;
It was a crest ere thou wast born.
Thy father's father wore it;
And thy father bore it;
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn."

 

From "As You Like It " Act IV, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare.

The Derby Ram or "Ye Olde Tup" Mummers Play as performed by the HTW 2010

Picture © the Chattering Magpie 2015

The 'ram' is a member of the group dressed in a sheep skin complete with a ram skull, who with a bag of apples over their shoulder but hidden under the skin, parades around the circle while the rest of the group sing or chant the following:

        "As I was going to Derby

        All on a market day,

        I met the finest tup, sir,

        That ever was fed on hay.

        Fay-lay, fay-lay,

        Fay-lay, lad-digo-lay.

   

        This tup was fat behind, sir,

        This tup was fat before,

        This tup, was nine feet high, sir,

        If not a little more.

        Fay-lay, fay-lay,

        Fay-lay, lad-digo-lay.

        The horns that grew on this tup's head

        They were so mighty high,

        That every time it shook its head

        They rattled against the sky.

        Fay-lay, fay-lay,

        Fay-lay, lad-digo-lay."

    1st Speaker

        Is there a butcher in this town?

    2nd Speaker.

        Our Bob's a blacksmith.

    1st Speaker.

        I don't want a blacksmith. I want a butcher.

    3rd Speaker.

        Well! here I am! I'm a butcher!

        Where do you want him sticking? In't 'eard. or in't arse?

    1st Speaker.

        In't 'eard of course.

    3rd Speaker

        Well ! Let's stick 'im in't arse then.

The group proceeds to chase after the tup, hitting him (gently) with the sticks until he falls down dead. Then the butcher (played by the Defender of the Hearth) symbolically cuts off the head (removes the skull). Out falls a bag of apples, which the butcher then seizes and will be distributed amongst the group at the end of the play. All sing again:

        "The butcher that killed this tup, sir,

        Was in danger of his life ;

        He was up to his knees in blood, sir,

        And prayed for a longer life.

        Fay-lay, fay-lay,

        Fay-lay, lad-digo-lay.

        And all the men of Derby

        Came begging for his eyes,

        To makes themselves some footballs of,

        For they were football size.

        Fay-lay, fay-lay,

        Fay-lay, lad-digo-lay.

        And all the women of Derby

        Came begging for its ears,

        To make their leather aprons of

        To last them forty years.

        Fay-lay, fay-lay,

        Fay-lay, lad-digo-lay.

        And all the ringers of Derby

        Came begging for its tail,

        To ring St. George's passing bell

        From the top of Derby jail.

        Fay-lay, fay-lay,

        Fay-lay, lad-digo-lay.

        And now my song is ended,

        I have no more to say ;

        Please give us all an apple now

        And we will go away. "

The Derby Ram is a traditional Derbyshire mummers play and folksong, edited by members  of the HTW for use in our Autumn Equinox ritual (Merry 2010).

Picture © the Chattering Magpie 2015

Silver Wheel Volume 3 available from May 2011

Contents Volume 3

The Provocation of Religion by Emma Restall-Orr

The Bogeyman by Nigel Pennick

Biddy Early - A Political Witch? by Dr Bob Curran

The Soul Captivation of Clerk Colville by Dr Michael Berman

Dancing With Death - the Evolution of an Archetype by Kristoffer Hughes

Yule - Dissolution and Renewal by Anna Franklin

My Healing Path by Soraya

The Five Directions by Simon Danser

Achieving Awen by Andrea Brown

Consecration of a Sacred Dagger by D.B.Griffith

Call me Shiva- the Place of Chaos in Creativity by Andrea Brown

Candle Magic by Paul Walton

Crosswords by Yvette Davies

The Dance of the Maiden by Michelle Axe

The Enchantment of the Shape-shifter Gearhoidh Iarla by Dr Michael Berman

Hallowing of the Compass by Chattering Magpie

In Search of the Gypsy Laddie by Dr Michael Berman

New Year and the Compitalia -  to honour the household gods by Pat Regan

Magick in the 21^st Century and its Importance by Merrymoon

Mankind and Movement – The Importance of Physical Expression by Andrea Brown

Midwifing the Dying by Andrea Brown

Children of Cain - Modern Traditional Witches by Michael Howard

Natsiliani (Magical Birthmarks) by Dr Michael Berman

Organism v Organisation by Andrea Brown

Pagan symbolism within the Sherwood Legends by Chattering Magpie

The Ethical Bind Rune by Graham Butcher 

Muspel the First Realm by Tim Jones 

The Mothering Year by Jess Ablewhite 

The Sign of the Horned One by Pat Regan

http://www.merciangathering.com/

Silver Wheel Volume 2 available from May 2010

Contents of volume 2

The Wild Hunt Rides by Michael Howard

Hekate, Bright Goddess of the Mysteries  by Sorita D’este

Hecate’s Trip to the Liver Clinic  by Bella Basura

Belief, Desire and Magical Intent  by Simon Danser

The Mysteries of Mabon   by Wade MacMorrighan

The Eightfold Path by Peter Nash

Hallowtide Ritual   by Eachwen Colldwr

Round and Round the Circle by Jean Dark

The Symbol with Many Meanings  by  Ron Ford

Handfasting Ceremony   by D.B.Griffith & June Todd

Magic in the Smoke  by Paul Walton

Makemake    by Alison Chester-Lambert

Lammas Ritual of Sacrifice by D.B.Griffith

Pines on the Horizon   by Nigel Pennick

Plantlore and Herbcraft     by Philip Carr-Gomm

Polarity in Magical Partnerships by J. and P McCarthy

Simple Numerology  by Soraya

The Great Earl and the Black Abbess   by Dr Bob Curran

The Ritual of the Norwegian Blue   by D.B.Griffith

Ritual in Wicca  by Peter Nash

Wines through the Year    by Paul Walton

Working with Mott and Megin by Graham Butcher

The Return of the Rightful King  by Anna Franklin

Pagan Postcards from Lancashire by Wisty Jeffcott

The Goddess in Norfolk   by  Jean Dark

The Island of Skeletons    by  Dr Michael Berman

The Back Garden Moon Starer   by  Tim Goodwin

http://www.merciangathering.com/