tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45716387720660984322024-02-02T16:48:02.341-08:00Celtic StorytellersBogles and black dogs, selkies and sacred places weave a magical, mystical web of stories and ballads from England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. Folklore, superstition, legends, and strange true tales.Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-31934464524459041492020-03-19T16:59:00.002-07:002020-03-19T16:59:21.193-07:00The Fairy TulipsHere is a folktale for this “green” season:<br />
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<b>The Fairy Tulips (An English Folk-tale)</b></div>
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Once there was an old woman who raised beautiful tulips. One night she was wakened by singing. She looked out at the window but she could see nothing. On the following night she was again wakened by sweet singing, so she rose and went into her garden. Standing by each tulip she saw a fairy mother who was singing and rocking the flower like a cradle. In each tulip cup laid a tiny baby. The old woman tiptoed back to her house, and from that time on she never picked a tulip.<br />
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The tulips grew brighter in color and began to bloom all year round. Every night the fairy mothers sang to their babies and rocked them in the flower cups.<br />
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One day the old woman died. The tulip bed was torn up but nothing would grow there again. The fairies sang over the old woman's grave so it was always green. All around it grew tulips, daffodils, and violets, and many other flowers of spring.Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-38031729028964776172020-03-12T10:29:00.001-07:002020-03-12T10:29:26.252-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-13358188849363241872020-01-03T09:12:00.002-08:002020-01-03T09:12:19.614-08:00Coming Soon! Blackwater Falls State Park<div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #6f794e; font-family: Bebas-Kai, sans-serif; font-weight: normal; margin: 10px 0px;">
Beautiful Blackwater Falls State Park is hosting a presentation by the Celtic Storytellers on January 18th. Plan a visit to the park, to the nearby mountain towns of Thomas and Davis, and come listen to stories and ballads, see our slide show and enjoy an evening of the park's hospitality!</div>
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From the park's website:</h1>
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Celtic Storytellers</h1>
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Tandem storytellers, Susanna Holstein and Judi Tarowky, bring fascinating Celtic tales to life at Blackwater Falls State Park Lodge. At 7:00 p.m., the show is sure to delight and perhaps send shivers down the spines of audiences of all ages.</div>
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Selkies, bogles, boggarts, black dogs, fairies, dragons, ballads and more create the magical mystical web of stories to be heard and enjoyed. There is no fee to attend.</div>
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Celtic Stories Evening is open the public compliments of Blackwater Falls and the WV Division of Natural Resources.</div>
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Planning an overnight stay?</div>
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<a class="button button--cta" href="https://reservations.wvstateparks.com/products/lodging?arrivaldate=01%2F3%2F2020&adultcount=2&departuredate=01%2F5%2F2020" style="background: rgb(228, 138, 117); box-sizing: inherit; color: white; cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; font-family: Bebas-Kai, sans-serif; padding: 12px 35px; text-decoration-line: none; text-transform: uppercase; transition: all 0.2s ease-in-out 0s;">BOOK NOW</a></div>
Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-85258933475802263442019-07-31T05:34:00.001-07:002019-07-31T05:34:16.460-07:00Irish Festival, Dublin Ohio This WeekendCome join us at the Storytelling Tent at the Dublin Irish Festival this weekend! We'll be there Sunday afternoon.<br />
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Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-18897460658867075132019-04-08T11:19:00.003-07:002019-04-08T11:19:26.365-07:00This Week: Celtic Stories and songs at Serenity Coffee House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-2850751730046037882019-03-19T10:59:00.000-07:002019-03-19T10:59:02.334-07:00Looking Back, Looking AheadOur Spring presentations of Celtic Tales and Ballads is coming to a close. We have one performance still ahead: April 10th, 6pm at Serenity Coffe House in Vienna WV.<br />
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It's been wonderful to share our stories, folklore, songs, slide show and realia with audiences in Moundsville, Grafton, and St. Albans this month. With such a wealth of material to work with--our experiences during our own travels, our photos, our research--the most difficult part is planning what to tell. The program is growing and we will be expanding it to 90 minutes so we can include even more.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas storytelling a year or so ago</td></tr>
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For now, we look forward to our next show, to summer presentations, and to planning our Celtic Christmas show. So stay tuned!<br />
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And to whet your appetite, here's a story I love to tell at Christmas:<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Sir Cleges and the Christmas Cherries: </span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;">A Retelling of a Story from the Legends of Arthur</span></h3>
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Sir Cleges was knight like no other. Brave and fearless in battle, he had a kind heart and <span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">always helped anyone in need, lending money without expecting repayment, or forgiving rents if his tenants faced hard times.But over time he lost his fortune through his unstinting generosity, and had little left but the roof over his head. This Christmas season, there would be no celebrations, gifts, rich foods and visitors. There was no food at all, and only enough wood to keep the smallest of fires. Still, Sir Cleges knew there were people in worse shape than he was--people with no food at all, no home and no fire to warm them. </span><br /><br />Sir Cleges walked out one day on his land, thinking about how, even in his current situation, there were still so many who would spend the holidays with even less. He sat down under his favorite cherry tree, wondering if there was some way he could provide something for those poor people. A sound brought him out of his reverie.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />"Why, it sounds like wind blowing through summer leaves, and yet here it is deep mid-winter!" Sir Cleges looked up and was stunned to see the tree was in full bloom and covered with ripe, juicy cherries.<br /><br />"How can this be?" he exclaimed. "Cherries in winter? This must surely be a miracle!" He picked as many as his hands could hold and hurried home to his wife.<br /><br />Reaching his home, he called out, "Look! Look what I have found! Can you believe it, cherries in winter?"<br /><br />"It is a miracle!" she cried. She put one of the cherries into her mouth and smiled. "You must pick some of these magic cherries, Sir Cleges, and take them to Uther Pendragon. He is at Cardiff Castle now, I hear, and that is not so far away. He will be amazed to see these cherries, here at Christmas time!"<br /><br />Sir Cleges agreed that this was a good plan, He picked a basket full of cherries, said good-bye to his wife and set off on his journey.<br /><br />"Oh my, but will the King receive me, dressed as I am? Once I wore the raiment of a proud knight; now I am dressed like a beggar." Sir Cleges looked down at his ragged clothing in dismay. Then he straightened up and strode briskly on his way. "I may not be well dressed, but I am still a knight. I must act like one."<br /><br />'Halt!" called the sentry at the castle gate. "Who are you and what is your business here?"<br /><br />"Good day," said Sir Cleges. "I am Sir Cleges, a knight of His Majesty's realm. I have come to bring the King some Christmas cherries."<br /><br />"You must pay me to enter here," the sly guard said. "What will you pay?"<br /><br />"I have no money,"said Sir Cleges. "You can see my my clothing that hard times have overtaken me. All I have are these cherries, which I mean to give to the King."<br /><br />"You will give me one third of your reward for bringing the King these cherries, or I will send you on your way."<br /><br />Sadly, Sir Cleges agreed. He entered the castle and walked to the keep, but another guard stopped him.<br /><br />"Halt! Who do you think you are, trying to enter here in your filthy rags?"<br /><br />"I am Sir Cleges. I have come to bring these cherries to the King."<br /><br />"You'll not enter here for free, my friend. What payment can you offer?"<br /><br />Once again Cleges agreed to give the guard one third of whatever reward he was granted by the King. He walked up the stairs to the great hall, when yet another guard stopped him. Again payment was demanded.<br /><br />"I suppose you want payment too!" Sir Cleges exclaimed.<br /><br />"Take your cherries to the King. But you must give to me one third of whatever the King gives you as a reward for bringing him such lovely fruit."<br /><br />Sir Cleges had no choice but to agree once again to these terms. He walked into the hall and bowed low, presenting his basket of cherries to the King.<br /><br />"Cherries in winter! What a miracle!" The King shouted. He passed the basket of cherries around to his dinner guests, and all exclaimed in delight at such an amazing treat.<br /><br />"Please, Sir Cleges, join us at the table." Sir Cleges sat down and ate of the rich and plentiful meal before him.<br /><br />"Tell me, Sir Cleges, what reward do you wish to have in payment for bringing me such a treat?" asked the King.<br /><br />"If it please Your Majesty, I should like permission to give twelve strokes with my stick to the people I choose."<br /><br />The King stared at Sir Cleges. "That is a strange request indeed. Are you sure you would not prefer gold or meat or jewels instead?<br /><br />"Thank you, Sire, I want only what I have asked."<br /><br />"Very well, then," said the King. So it shall be."<br /><br />Sir Cleges walked out of the hall and was soon stopped by the third guard. "Give me my third of your reward!" the man demanded. Sir Cleges struck the man on the back with four mighty blows that sent the guard howling out of the hall.<br /><br />When he reached the entrance to the keep, the second guard demanded his payment. Sir Cleges obliged him, swinging his stick with all his strength and leaving the man crying on his knees. At the gate, the first guard stopped Sir Cleges and said, "All right, now pay me what is due me!" Once more Sir Cleges wielded his stick and struck the man the last four blows. As he passed through the gate, one of the King's men rushed up to him.<br /><br />"Sir Cleges, Uther Pendragon has asked that you return to his hall," the man said. Sir Cleges was surprised but obeyed, returning to the presence of the King.<br /><br />"I have recalled who you are, Sir Cleges. How come you to be dressed in the rags of a poor man?"<br /><br />Sir Cleges bowed his head. "I have been too generous, Your Majesty, and then hard times struck and I have nothing left but him home and my family. And I thank God to have that much when so many have far less."<br /><br />"But why did you not ask for gold or food as a reward? Surely that would have served you better?"<br /><br />Sir Cleges explained about his encounters with the greedy guards. On hearing the tale, Uther Pendragon laughed and laughed.<br /><br />"You are a clever man, Sir Cleges. Your story has earned another reward. You shall have new lands, and control of this Castle as well. But you must promise me to be a wiser steward of your money, and to be more cautious in your giving in the future."<br /><br />And so it was, and so Sir Cleges did, and all was well with him once again.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There is a beautifully illustrated version of this story in a<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Christmas-Knight-Jane-Louise-Curry/dp/0689505728/ref=sr_1_13?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1387424755&sr=1-13&keywords=Christmas+Knight" style="color: #bd3b00; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">children's picture book by Jane Louise Curry</a></b>.<br /><br />You can read more about this story and its place in Arthurian legendry at these sites:<br /><br /><b><a href="http://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/text/laskaya-and-salisbury-middle-english-breton-lays-sir-cleges-introduction" style="color: #bd3b00; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">University of Rochester</a> </b>Middle English Texts Series<br /><br /><b><a href="http://www.yorku.ca/inpar/cleges_weston.pdf" style="color: #bd3b00; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Translation by Jessie L. Weston</a></b><br /><br /><b><a href="http://www.sfsu.edu/~medieval/complaintlit/sir_cleges.html" style="color: #bd3b00; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">San Francisco State University Medieval Forum</a></b><br /><br /><b><a href="http://www.middleenglishromance.org.uk/mer/51" style="color: #bd3b00; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Database of Middle English Romance</a></b><br /><b><br /></b><b><br /></b><b><br /></b></div>
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<br />Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-17778392145963436432019-02-26T09:35:00.000-08:002019-02-26T09:35:03.018-08:00Coming Up This Weekend<span style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">This weekend! Getting excited about this presentation. Fairies, mermaids, selkies, boggarts, ghosts...it's all in there!</span><br />
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CELTIC STORYTELLING AND BALLADS</h3>
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MARCH 2, NOON</h4>
<span style="background-color: #e2e2e2; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px;">St. Albans Branch Library</span><br style="background-color: #e2e2e2; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px;" /><br style="background-color: #e2e2e2; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px;" /><strong style="background-color: #e2e2e2; border: 0px; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Type: </strong><span style="background-color: #e2e2e2; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px;">Storytelling</span><br style="background-color: #e2e2e2; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px;" /><strong style="background-color: #e2e2e2; border: 0px; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Age: </strong><span style="background-color: #e2e2e2; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px;">All Ages</span><br style="background-color: #e2e2e2; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px;" /><strong style="background-color: #e2e2e2; border: 0px; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Topic: </strong><span style="background-color: #e2e2e2; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px;">Celtic Calling, Celtic Music, History, St. Patrick's Day, Storytelling</span><br style="background-color: #e2e2e2; color: #323333; font-family: minion-pro; font-size: 14px;" /><br />
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Storytellers Susanna Holstein and Judi Tarowsky will present stories and ballads of England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland. Program includes a multimedia presentation including a Mari Lwyd, photos and other artifacts. Light refreshments and program sponsored by the St. Albans Branch Library Advisory Board. All ages.</div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Location Details: </strong>SA Community Room</div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Presenter Name: </strong>Susanna Holstein</div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Contact Name: </strong>Lora Ward</div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Contact Email: </strong><a href="mailto:304-722-4244" style="border: 0px; color: #137cc1; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">304-722-4244</a></div>
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<strong style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Contact Phone </strong>Lora.Ward@kanawhalibrary.org</div>
Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-50341525669226349292019-02-20T10:58:00.001-08:002019-02-20T10:58:38.319-08:00Wales: A Photo Journey <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Storyteller <b><a href="https://www.tellerjuditarowsky.com/">Judi Tarowsky</a></b>, one of the Celtic Storytellers, shared photos from her travels to Wales. Enjoy!</div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Pentre Ifan Burial Chamber - near Nevern, Wales. This tomb predates the Iron Age. It stands in a farmer's field, but under Welsh law, access is granted to the public. Sheep graze nearby.</span></div>
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St. David's Cathedral, commemorates Wales' patron saint. Before the cathedral was built in his honor, it was on this spot that he gave his last sermon. It is said that the ground on which he stood rose up so people in the back of the multitude could hear and see him. <b><a href="https://wales.com/about-wales/st-davids-day/st-davids-day-parades-and-celebrations">St. David's Day</a></b> is celebrated March 1, when Welsh wear either a daffodil or leek. During their many raids, Vikings sacked the cathedral.<br />
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Solva - a charming seaside town on St. Bride's Bay on the Pembrokeshire Coast of Wales, not far from St. David's.<br />
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Solva was said to be a haven for smugglers with its secluded harbor. Easy to see why!<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">Harlech Castle, once home of Bran, the Giant King and brother of Branwen, who wed the King of Ireland.</span></div>
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Branwen was the first to spy the masts of 13 ships from this vantage point sailing toward them across the Irish Sea. The Irish King was so taken with her beauty, he proposed on the spot, pledging peace between the two lands. Their story is told in the Mabinogian, the great Welsh epic written down 700 years ago, but is much, much older.<br />
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Another view of the castle.</div>
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Judi tells many stories from Wales. Be sure to join us at one of our upcoming performances to hear her. Check our <b><a href="https://celtictellers.blogspot.com/2019/01/upcoming-performances.html">performance schedule</a></b> to see when and where we will be!<br />
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<br />Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-17345187366782055082019-01-24T12:39:00.002-08:002019-02-20T13:52:53.838-08:00Upcoming Performances<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Celtic Storytellers will be on the road this spring!</div>
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Here are some locations where we will be performing:</div>
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March 2: St. Albans Public Library, St. Albans, WV 12:00 noon. Family program. Program will include a multimedia presentation with photos, a Mari Lwyd, and more. Refreshments will be served.</div>
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March 12: Moundsville-Marshall Public Library, Moundsville, WV, 6:00pm. Program for adult audiences. Program will include a multimedia presentation with photos, a Mari Lwyd, and more.<br />
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March 18: Taylor County Public Library, Grafton, WV, 5:00pm. Program for adult audiences. Program will include a multimedia presentation with photos, a Mari Lwyd, and more.</div>
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April 10: Serenity Coffehouse, Vienna, WV. 6:00pm. Stories, ballads, folklore, and superstitions!<br />
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July 18: Putnam County Public Library. 6:00pm. Program will include a multimedia presentation with photos, a Mari Lwyd, and more. </div>
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All of these programs are free and open to the public, so come by and join us for stories, ballads, and a good time.</div>
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Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-65943958146896066072019-01-07T06:20:00.000-08:002019-01-07T06:20:18.967-08:00A Ballad and a Question<span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><b>The Dreadful Wind and Rain</b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Two loving sisters were walking by the sea</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Oh the wind and rain</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">One pushed the other off in the waters so deep</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Cry oh the dreadful wind and rain.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br />
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She floated down to the miller's pond<br />Oh the wind and rain<br />She floated down to the miller's pond<br />Cry oh the dreadful wind and rain.<br /><br />Out run the miller with his long hook and line,<br />Oh the wind and rain.<br />Out run the miller with his long hook and line.<br />Cry oh the dreadful wind and rain.</div>
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He pulled her in and took her gold ring<br />Oh the wind and rain<br />Then he pushed her in again<br />Cry oh the dreadful wind and rain.</div>
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An old fiddler saw her floating there,<br />Oh the wind and rain.<br />He made fiddle strings of her long black hair<br />Cry oh, the dreadful wind and rain.</div>
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He made fiddle screws of her long finger bones<br />Oh the wind and rain<br />He made fiddle screws of her long finger bones<br />Cry oh, The dreadful wind and rain.<br /><br />The only tune that his fiddle would play<br />Oh the wind and the rain<br />Was I was killed by my sister Ellen<br />Cry oh the dreadful wind and rain.</div>
<br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNu_HwxknmoBTR3GJ6Palkk2RUkJXCer2hwAXNKPb5KI74pZ5R68FmhsCgkRhsl7YXsW9TnYTvqJ79Gk0LvryLGJNHFH3VaNEgGJB-8K9YMZOU96bvVO3bMoPT2FOVPitnKBkY3Lip0k/s1600-h/girls.jpg" style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301299484185782738" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNu_HwxknmoBTR3GJ6Palkk2RUkJXCer2hwAXNKPb5KI74pZ5R68FmhsCgkRhsl7YXsW9TnYTvqJ79Gk0LvryLGJNHFH3VaNEgGJB-8K9YMZOU96bvVO3bMoPT2FOVPitnKBkY3Lip0k/s400/girls.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; float: left; height: 219px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; padding: 5px; position: relative; width: 151px;" /></a><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">This is one version of a ballad sung in many ways in many places and with many different words. </span><a href="http://harvardmagazine.com/2006/05/francis-james-child.html" style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Francis James Child</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> called it </span><a href="http://www.contemplator.com/child/twasist.html" style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">"The Twa Sisters"</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> and labeled it as ballad #10, but when it made its way to the mountains of the new world it was often called "</span><a href="http://www3.clearlight.com/~acsa/introjs.htm?/~acsa/songfile/DREADFUL.HTM" style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Dreadful Wind and Rain</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">," "</span><a href="http://www.springthyme.co.uk/ballads/balladtexts/10_TwaSisters.html" style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">The Two Sisters</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">," another version calls it </span><a href="http://www.mudcat.org/@displaysong.cfm?SongID=646" style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Binnorie</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">, which </span><a href="http://www.authorama.com/english-fairy-tales-11.html" style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Joseph Jacobs </a><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">told in fairy tale form in one of his story collection. The list of titles and versions seems endless, but the story remains basically the same: two sisters fall for the same man; he courts the younger, who is killed by her older sister in a fit of jealousy. Depending on the version, the younger sister's bones are used to make a fiddle or a harp, and when played accuse the older sister of the murder.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">As you can tell, it's been a popular song and story down through the years. I told it first as a story, then later learned to sing it as Dreadful Wind and Rain. Later still I learned a version called Binnorie.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">This, like so many ballads, is a song that stood the test of time because it tells a compelling story. Which leads me to a question posed by </span><a href="http://www.storytellingnotes.blogspot.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;">Priscilla Howe </a><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">on her blog:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">What is better, a good story told badly, or a bad story told well? I thought her question was intriguing, and I've been thinking about it for the past day. Which is better? or is one just as bad as the other? I've heard good stories made deadly boring, and I have heard stories with no meaning or depth told extremely well.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">If you had to choose, what would you say?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Here is Joseph Jacob's story version of the ballads, from his book (in the public domain) English Fairy Tales:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Once upon a time there were two king’s daughters lived in a bower near the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie. And Sir William came wooing the eldest and won her love and plighted troth with glove and with ring. But after a time he looked upon the youngest, with her cherry cheeks and golden hair, and his love grew towards her till he cared no longer for the eldest one. So she hated her sister for taking away Sir William’s love, and day by day her hate grew upon her, and she plotted and she planned how to get rid of her.</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">So one fine morning, fair and clear, she said to her sister, “Let us go and see our father’s boats come in at the bonny mill-stream of Binnorie.” So they went there hand in hand. And when they got to the river’s bank the youngest got upon a stone to watch for the coming of the boats. And her sister, coming behind her, caught her round the waist and dashed her into the rushing mill-stream of Binnorie.</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">“O sister, sister, reach me your hand!” she cried, as she floated away, “and you shall have half of all I’ve got or shall get.”</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">“No, sister, I’ll reach you no hand of mine, for I am the heir to all your land. Shame on me if I touch the hand that has come ’twixt me and my own heart’s love.”</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">“O sister, O sister, then reach me your glove!” she cried, as she floated further away, “and you shall have your William again.”</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">“Sink on,” cried the cruel princess, “no hand or glove of mine you’ll touch. Sweet William will be all mine when you are sunk beneath the bonny mill-stream of Binnorie.” And she turned and went home to the king’s castle.</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">And the princess floated down the mill-stream, sometimes swimming and sometimes sinking, till she came near the mill. Now the miller’s daughter was cooking that day, and needed water for her cooking. And as she went to draw it from the stream, she saw something floating towards the mill-dam, and she called out, “Father! father! draw your dam. There’s something white–a merry maid or a milk-white swan– coming down the stream.” So the miller hastened to the dam and stopped the heavy cruel mill-wheels. And then they took out the princess and laid her on the bank.</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Fair and beautiful she looked as she lay there. In her golden hair were pearls and precious stones; you could not see her waist for her golden girdle; and the golden fringe of her white dress came down over her lily feet. But she was drowned, drowned!</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">And as she lay there in her beauty a famous harper passed by the mill- dam of Binnorie, and saw her sweet pale face. And though he travelled on far away he never forgot that face, and after many days he came back to the bonny mill-stream of Binnorie. But then all he could find of her where they had put her to rest were her bones and her golden hair. So he made a harp out of her breast-bone and her hair, and travelled on up the hill from the mill-dam of Binnorie, till he came to the castle of the king her father.</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">That night they were all gathered in the castle hall to hear the great harper–king and queen, their daughter and son, Sir William and all their Court. And first the harper sang to his old harp, making them joy and be glad or sorrow and weep just as he liked. But while he sang he put the harp he had made that day on a stone in the hall. And presently it began to sing by itself, low and clear, and the harper stopped and all were hushed.</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">And this was what the harp sung:</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">“O yonder sits my father, the king,<br />Binnorie, O Binnorie;</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">And yonder sits my mother, the queen;<br />By the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie,<br />“And yonder stands my brother Hugh,<br />Binnorie, O Binnorie;</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">And by him, my William, false and true;<br />By the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie.”</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Then they all wondered, and the harper told them how he had seen the princess lying drowned on the bank near the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie, and how he had afterwards made this harp out of her hair and breast-bone. Just then the harp began singing again, and this was what it sang out loud and clear:</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">“And there sits my sister who drownèd me<br />By the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie.”</em><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><em style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">And the harp snapped and broke, and never sang more.</em>Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-47914936025707363842018-11-29T09:49:00.000-08:002018-11-29T09:49:32.384-08:00Wassail! 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Wassail!</h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdu64JIbv6_jQcEomxLUlyVshX7fYwrj7J8TAQ1HdwbL1WwdAxJnV6AKa1KPn7HpvmmzLReQ-n8qwCnCAm8EpAXRbWn6ey73jFB26BPymKBIvH8dTVada9VzraABTX0VUW50DXsmF35h8/s1600-h/wassailing.jpg" style="color: #990000; text-decoration-line: none;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141737029621238194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEgVuKZHEtY_lgoa33eeXQ_Jclq6MASQgfgdK-Jm7rCHvdkjgFb_Mc8PTPYocnpJsUN8Lh_JZg51FG0UKQ-ItnEeSkjH2MMUY2YPJBlSwo6IVWKzM6pJsQEWYvOio_HTUDfr-dY8ik8sVxgMeHO-mr_PrUL72oTh__TP5RMGLplEubLmRA-8euh4NF1UVscYmz6k9316nHEpW_QZSg=s0-d" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; float: right; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="234" /></a>Wassail--what is it? <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wassail" style="color: #990000; text-decoration-line: none;">Wikipedia </a>describes it as a hot spicy drink popular in northern Europe. My mother, an Englishwoman, did not make it although I remember her talking about going "wassailing" as a girl in England. <span style="font-size: 13.09px;"><em>Wassailing</em></span><br /><br /><div>
Wassailing is not making the punch--it's the practice of goin<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBJhq4MTl9AAKDQ3EHkGjIuui0cREhU3AdTqowljMODue0rCW5YCY9AjaKEsbxxOOncHyTrVWiYc4YTRAfD8WiZ1Fov9AnU1sv-h1Je3PMe5Q4rAH4BlIliS2crN8ijhkGSnCGPEY66M/s1600-h/wassailing.jpg" style="color: #990000; text-decoration-line: none;"></a>g <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1yZP3eTeW6MmLVO5ThEM8g9knbtYkEZ1WzA5uiVoWUrJ8C6a4Ho9eOkffN8lZZEqzpwU1BgJ0DBnvx4Aj9FMXpdENAhCuIF2ueF7AjEzsWCgpxDgmxGmqZE6l-ORlxGplr5SYY0LuLI/s1600-h/wassail+book.jpg" style="color: #990000; text-decoration-line: none;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141959654956059074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEg3TFCfL0JglMlqh_s6B1tQ4IqlFDNc0Nr6dvECUaVvdZLnsyWTFWvxoAeOrXmZYVRGqq6wBgNCvGGUt3msuLJaTTP5n9qHkOT8kxR-WJiQ8ewlLSTZ4K2Ydh_mJ5MRtt62hhmzcaaJ1idGClzHSMd7RtVxsfsEYqVkYsd7fsOcwbwK_YdURysT870r6Oit_dC73zkaEEC451aXj4Uj=s0-d" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; float: right; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a>door to door, singing carols and songs in hopes of (or, in some cases, demanding) food and drink. Homeowners would make the punch to give to the wassailers. Similar to caroling, but with a goal in mind! For a complete guide to wassail customs, songs, toasts, and recipes, see Conrad Bladey's book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Do-Wassail-Customs-Recipes-Traditions/dp/0970238673/ref=sr_1_9/103-4525518-8839858?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1197205499&sr=1-9" style="color: #990000; text-decoration-line: none;">Do the Wassail</a>.</div>
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So, in case carolers or wassailers come to your door this holiday season, I'm including a recipe for wassail. It's very similar to hot spiced cider that we drink around Halloween.</div>
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Here is one of many wassail songs. I found the lyrics and tune online, but the site is no longer available. </div>
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CAN WASSAIL</div>
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Now Yuletime is comen</div>
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And New Year begin</div>
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Pray open your doors</div>
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And let us come in.</div>
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<em>Chorus</em><br /><em>With our wassail, wassail,</em></div>
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<em>Wassail, wassail, </em></div>
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<em>And joy come with our jolly wassail.</em></div>
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O Master and Mistress</div>
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Sitting down by the fire</div>
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While we poor wassail boys</div>
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Are traveling the mire.<br /><em>Chorus</em><br />This ancient house</div>
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We will kindly salute</div>
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It is an old custom</div>
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You need not dispute.<br /><em>Chorus</em></div>
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We are here in this place,</div>
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Orderly we stand</div>
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We're the jolly wassail boys</div>
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With a bowl in our hands.<br /><em>Chorus</em></div>
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We hope that your apple trees</div>
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Will prosper and bear</div>
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And bring forth good cider</div>
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When we come next year.<br /><em>Chorus</em></div>
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We hope that your barley</div>
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Will prosper and grow</div>
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That you may have plenty</div>
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And some to bestow.</div>
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<em>Chorus</em></div>
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Good Mistress and Master</div>
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How can you forbear</div>
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Come fill up our bowl</div>
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With cider or beer.<br /><em>Chorus</em></div>
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Good Mistress and Master</div>
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Sitting down at your ease</div>
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Put your hands in your pockets</div>
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And give what you please.</div>
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<em>Chorus</em></div>
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I wish you a blessing</div>
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And a long time to live</div>
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Since you've been so free</div>
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And willing to give.<br /><em>Chorus</em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: 13.09px;">This is the version (with chorus) recorded by Pete Kennedy as can Wassel or Wassail Song. #87, p. 214 in Folksongs of Britain and Ireland., Peter Kennedy et. al. eds.,Oak,London,1984.</span></em> <em><span style="font-size: 13.09px;">This song has a tune similar to that for Wassails, collected by Cecil Sharp.</span></em></div>
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You many not want to go out a-wassailing, but you can still make the punch to enjoy over the holidays.<br /><br />Here's what you need to make Wassail:</div>
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1 gallon apple cider</div>
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2/3 cups sugar</div>
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2 teaspoons whole allspice</div>
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2 teaspoons whole cloves</div>
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2 three inch cinnamon sticks</div>
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2 oranges, studded with cloves (shades of the pomander!)</div>
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Directions:</div>
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Heat all ingredients except the clove oranges in a large pan to boiling; then reduce heat to simmer.</div>
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Cover and simmer for 20 minutes; strain.</div>
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Pour into a small punch bowl or large pitcher and add oranges. Serve hot.</div>
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I expect some folks added spirits to the mix, but this one is safe for the whole family. There are many recipes for wassail, but I like this one for its simplicity.</div>
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Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-64305512562999635092018-11-05T11:07:00.002-08:002018-11-05T11:07:46.169-08:00Dark November: Bringing in Some Cheer<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">
It's November, and the darkest days are ahead of us. O<span style="font-size: 15.4px;">ne of my favorite stories for this time of year comes from the fenlands of England, not far from where my mother grew up. It's a fitting story for bleak November, called </span><b style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 15.4px;">The Buried Moon</b><span style="font-size: 15.4px;">. You will find the story at the bottom of this post. But first, something a little more cheery!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.4px;">My English mother was a great one for flower arrangements, and I have followed her tradition, although I stretch it throughout the year, making bouquets from whatever plant material happens to be available. </span></div>
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Here's one way to brighten the house while we wait for the Winter Solstice:<br /><br />Put some cut greenery in a container--a red one is perfect, but milk glass, copper, brass, silver, pottery or even galvanized tin work well.</div>
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422690614260347426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqATngwdX7kVTh3DxM4mLBZ-brVUQBEYZCxcIjLljyyJIe-DzduHThAGAwZWsyC_CiqnGdnr1ZkrK9rqVglREt6nS0-OjiyqTKtL5hkhc5FmeGzvyk8jt5-mix8g_llS0g8ahqL3skhw/s400/snow+and+ice+winter+bouquet+014.JPG" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; display: block; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; padding: 5px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Add some red foliage. In the above photo I used twigs from my Burning Bushand red berries from my </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">cottoneaster</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> plant. The </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">multiflora</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> rose bushes in my area usually have plenty of red berries, if you're willing to take on those thorny shrubs to cut some stems. Holly, dogwood, rose hips, barberry and even bittersweet yield acceptable berries. I am in the eastern US, so those of you in other locations may know something that grows in your area that would work.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Add a few cinnamon sticks for scent and color, and whatever else you find in the wild that might enhance your bouquet.</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">You could also add:</span><br />
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<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">dried orange or apple slices, using florist wire to hold them upright in the arrangement;</li>
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<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">twigs from spirea or hazel, which give a woodsy, wild feeling to a bouquet;</li>
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<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">dried wild grasses</li>
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<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;">ivy, grape, or other vines</li>
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I make several of these arrangements to scatter around the house. With a few lighted candles (not too close!) the essence of the holidays soon upon us can be had at little or no cost. Typically a bouquet will last at least two weeks and occasionally longer, depending on the heat and humidity in your house (and remembering to add water as needed).</div>
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You can also make it a symbolic bouquet but looking up the meanings of the plants you use. For example, in the Celtic folklore, the fir tree symbolizes honesty, progress, longevity, resilience, friendship, remembrance and perceptiveness. Holly means action, assertion, and objectivity. Look up the symbolism of your plants online--I found several sites that offer this information, including:</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.whats-your-sign.com/celtic-meaning-of-symbolic-trees.html" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><strong>What's Your Sign?</strong></a> offers Celtic symbolism of plants.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.cooktownlife.com/cemetery/symbols.htm" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><strong><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Cooktown</span> Life</strong> </a>lists symbols frequently found on gravestones, but there are many plants listed (scroll down to "Plant"). Okay, this bouquet is supposed to cheer you up, so don't linger too long in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Cooktown</span>!</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.hmk.on.ca/plantmeanings.html" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><strong>Plant Meanings or Symbols</strong></a> for many plants are listed on this website.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_u6i7DbunxYenWX_ZMqhSx2aN48GbW_ZP6W-29lU1GOmVNLjgVoYp9UYiqw5lQdqtmfi9JNw0noRv-H7G6Rl6hqDxonhmFgS4kkGiChFxC5vn6NoFSWKlRkqKHX03Q6skejDM8KxvgA/s1600-h/language+of+flowers.jpg" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; text-decoration-line: none;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422698008438297090" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_u6i7DbunxYenWX_ZMqhSx2aN48GbW_ZP6W-29lU1GOmVNLjgVoYp9UYiqw5lQdqtmfi9JNw0noRv-H7G6Rl6hqDxonhmFgS4kkGiChFxC5vn6NoFSWKlRkqKHX03Q6skejDM8KxvgA/s400/language+of+flowers.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; padding: 5px; position: relative; width: 240px;" /></a></span><br />
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If you prefer to find your information in books, you must find a copy of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Language-Flowers-F-W-Father/dp/B000P21VR4" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><strong>The Language of Flowers</strong> </a>by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">FWL</span> ( no name for the author is listed and was apparently to be kept a secret). This little book is just beautiful, with color illustrations and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">careful</span>hand lettering. It includes trees as well as flowering plants.</div>
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<br />Making your bouquet can while away a good bit of time on a cold, drab day as you collect your plant material, find a container, and look up the folklore connected with your arrangement. </div>
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And here is the promised story:</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Buried Moon</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent;">LONG ago, in my grandmother's time, the Carland was all in bogs, great pools of black water, and creeping trickles of green water, and squishy mools which squirted when you stepped on them.</span></div>
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Well, granny used to say how long before her time the Moon herself was once dead and buried in the marshes, and as she used to tell me, I'll tell you all about it.<br />
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The Moon up yonder shone and shone, just as she does now, and when she shone she lighted up the bog-pools, so that one could walk about almost as safe as in the day.<br />
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But when she didn't shine, out came the Things that dwelt in the darkness and went about seeking to do evil and harm; Bogies and Crawling Horrors, all came out when the Moon didn't shine.<br />
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Well, the Moon heard of this, and being kind and good -- as she surely is, shining for us in the night instead of taking her natural rest -- she was main troubled. 'I'll see for myself, I will,' said she, 'maybe it's not so bad as folks make out.'<br />
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Sure enough, at the month's end down she stept, wrapped up in a black cloak, and a black hood over her yellow shining hair. Straight she went to the bog edge and looked about her. Water here and water there; waving tussocks and trembling mools, and great black snags all twisted and bent. Before her all was dark -- dark but for the glimmer of the stars in the pools, and the light that came from her own white feet, stealing out of her black cloak.<br />
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The Moon drew her cloak faster about and trembled, but she wouldn't go back without seeing all there was to be seen; so on she went, stepping as light as the wind in summer from tuft to tuft between the greedy gurgling water-holes. Just as she came near a big black pool her foot slipped and she was nigh tumbling in. She grabbed with both hands at a snag near by to steady herself with, but as she touched it, it twined itself round her wrists, like a pair of handcuffs, and gript her so that she couldn't move. She pulled and twisted and fought, but it was no good. She was fast, and must stay fast.<br />
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Presently as she stood trembling in the dark, wondering if help would come, she heard something calling in the distance, calling, calling, and then dying away with a sob, till the marshes were full of this pitiful crying sound; then she heard steps floundering along, squishing in the mud and slipping on the tufts, and through the darkness she saw a white face with great feared eyes.<br />
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'Twas a man strayed in the bogs. Mazed with fear, he struggled on towards the flickering light that looked like help and safety. And when the poor Moon saw that he was coming nigher and nigher to the deep hole, further and further from the path, she was so mad and so sorry that she struggled and fought and pulled harder than ever. And though she couldn't get loose, she twisted and turned, till her black hood fell back off her shining yellow hair, and the beautiful light that came from it drove away the darkness.<br />
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Oh, but the man cried with joy to see the light again. And at once all evil things fled back into the dark corners, for they cannot abide the light. So he could see where he was, and where the path was, and how he could get out of the marsh. And he was in such haste to get away from the Quicks, and Bogles, and Things that dwelt there, that he scarce looked at the brave light that came from the beautiful shining yellow hair, streaming out over the black cloak and falling to the water at his feet. And the Moon herself was so taken up with saving him, and with rejoicing that he was back on the right path, that she clean forgot that she needed help herself, and that she was held fast by the Black Snag.<br />
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So off he went; spent and gasping, and stumbling and sobbing with joy, flying for his life out of the terrible bogs. Then it came over the Moon she would main like to go with him. So she pulled and fought as if she were mad, till she fell on her knees, spent with tugging, at the foot of the snag. And as she lay there, gasping for breath, the black hood fell forward over her head. So out went the blessed light and back came the darkness, with all its Evil Things, with a screech and a howl. They came crowding round her, mocking and snatching and beating; shrieking with rage and spite, and swearing and snarling, for they knew her for their old enemy, that drove them back into the corners, and kept them from working their wicked wills.<br />
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'Drat thee!' yelled the witch-bodies, 'thou'st spoiled our spells this year agone!'<br />
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'And us thou sent'st to brood in the corners!' howled the Bogles.<br />
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And all the Things joined in with a great 'Ho, ho!' till the very tussocks shook and the water gurgled.<br />
And they began again.<br />
'We'll poison her -- poison her!' shrieked the witches.<br />
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And 'Ho-ho!' howled the Things again.<br />
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'We'll smother her -- smother her!' whispered the Crawling Horrors, and twined themselves round her knees.<br />
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And 'Ho, ho!' mocked the rest of them.<br />
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And again they all shouted with spite and ill will. And the poor Moon crouched down, and wished she was dead and done with.<br />
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And they fought and squabbled what they should do with her, till a pale grey light began to come in the sky; and it drew nigh the dawning. And when they saw that, they were feared lest they shouldn't have time to work their will; and they caught hold of her, with horrid bony fingers, and laid her deep in the water at the foot of the snag. And the Bogles fetched a strange big stone and rolled it on top of her, to keep her from rising. And they told two of the Will-o-the-wykes to take turns in watching on the black snag, to see that she lay safe and still, and couldn't get out to spoil their sport.<br />
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And there lay the poor Moon, dead and buried in the bog, till someone would set her loose, and who'd know where to look for her.<br />
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Well, the days passed, and 'twas the time for the new moon's coming, and the folk put pennies in their pockets and straws in their caps so as to be ready for her, and looked about, for the Moon was a good friend to the marsh folk, and they were main glad when the dark time was gone, and the paths were safe again, and the Evil Things were driven back by the blessed Light into the darkness and the water-holes.<br />
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But days and days passed, and the new Moon never came, and the nights were aye dark, and the Evil Things were worse than ever. And still the days went on, and the new Moon never came. Naturally the poor folk were strangely feared and mazed, and a lot of them went to the Wise Woman who dwelt in the old mill, and asked if so be she could find out where the Moon was gone.<br />
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'Well,' said she, after looking in the brewpot, and in the mirror, and in the Book, 'it be main queer, but I can't rightly tell ye what's happened to her. If ye hear of aught, come and tell me.'<br />
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So they went their ways; and as days went by, and never a Moon came, naturally they talked -- my word! I reckon they <i>did </i>talk! Their tongues wagged at home, and at the inn, and in the garth. But so came one day, as they sat on the great settle in the inn, a man from the far end of the bog lands was smoking and listening, when all at once he sat up and slapped his knee. 'My faicks!' says he, 'I'd clean forgot, but I reckon I kens where the Moon be!' and he told them of how he was lost in the bogs, and how, when he was nigh dead with fright, the light shone out, and he found the path and got home safe.<br />
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So off they all went to the Wise Woman, and told her about it, and she looked long in the pot and the Book again, and then she nodded her head.<br />
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'It's dark still, childer, dark!' says she, 'and I can't rightly see, but do as I tell ye, and ye'll find out for yourselves. Go all of ye, just afore the night gathers, put a stone in your mouth, and take a hazel-twig in your hands, and say never a word till you're safe home again. Then walk on and fear not, far into the midst of the marsh, till ye find a coffin, a candle, and a cross. Then ye'll not be far from your Moon; look, and m'appen ye'll find her.'<br />
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So came the next night in the darklings, out they went all together, every man with a stone in his mouth, and a hazel-twig in his hand, and feeling, thou may'st reckon, main feared and creepy. And they stumbled and stottered along the paths into the midst of the bogs; they saw naught, though they heard sighings and flutterings in their ears, and felt cold wet fingers touching them; but all at once, looking around for the coffin, the candle, and the cross, while they came nigh to the pool beside the great snag, where the Moon lay buried.<br />
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And all at once they stopped, quaking and mazed and skeery, for there was the great stone, half in, half out of the water, for all the world like a strange big coffin; and at the head was the black snag, stretching out its two arms in a dark gruesome cross, and on it a tiddy light flickered, like a dying candle. And they all knelt down in the mud, and said, 'Our Lord', first forward, because of the cross, and then backward, to keep off the Bogles; but without speaking out, for they knew that the Evil Things would catch them if they didn't do as the Wise Woman told them.<br />
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Then they went nigher, and took hold of the big stone, and shoved it up, and afterwards they said that for one tiddy minute they saw a strange and beautiful face looking up at them glad-like out of the black water; but the Light came so quick and so white and shining, that they stept back mazed with it, and the very next minute, when they could see again, there was the full Moon in the sky, bright and beautiful and kind as ever, shining and smiling down at them, and making the bogs and the paths as clear as day, and stealing into the very corners, as though she'd have driven the darkness and the Bogles clean away if she could.<br />
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<i>--from Joseph Jacobs' More English Fairy Tales, published in 1894</i><br />
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Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-84775801690912551732018-10-06T05:57:00.001-07:002018-10-06T05:57:51.098-07:00Ghost Stories Workshop Coming SoonFOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE<br />
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WRITING RESEARCH WORKSHOP<br />
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Pearl S. Buck Birthplace – Hillsboro, WVSaturday October 20, 2018 – 1:00 – 4:00 PMOn Saturday, October 20, 2018, the Pearl S. Buck Birthplace (located in Hillsboro, WV), with support from The Calvin W. Price Appalachian Enrichment Series, will host Beyond the Grave:A Ghost Stories Workshop for Tellers and Writers lead by professional storyteller, Susanna “Granny Sue” Holstein. The workshop is open to the public (pre-registration is recommended but not required), all levels of writers and tellers are welcomed. A $10.00 donation is suggested for attendance. Light refreshments and drinks will be provided. Please bring paper and pen.<br />
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Join professional storyteller Susanna “Granny Sue” Holstein for an in-depth workshop that delves into the process of creating a tellable, fully developed tale. Beginning storytellers, writers and those who simply want to bring life to a family legend will all find this workshop helpful, informative and inspiring.Stories and storytelling have been a part of West Virginia’s culture since the earliest pioneers crossed the Allegheny mountains. People told stories to while away the time during long winter evenings, or on the porch on hot summer days. Stories were a way to pass on family history, traditions, stories from the “old country,” and to teach children the accepted rules of behavior. Ofall the stories told in our state, the most prevalent is the ghost story. Often these tales are only snippets of memory or an anecdote. But what’s the rest of the story?<br />
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Writer, poet, professional storyteller, and ballad singer, Susanna Connelly Holstein, from Jackson County, WV, writes the online journal Granny Sue’s News and Reviews, the blog Mountain Poet. Her storytelling performances include Appalachian stories and ballads, family heritage and history, and tales from West Virginia’s weird and wonderful history.<br />
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Holstein’s work has appeared in the poetry anthology, Fed From the Blade and the short story collection, Diner Stories, both from Mountain State Press, and other online and print journals and anthologies. She was a founding member of the West Virginia Storytelling Guild and has performed and presented workshops at events from Bellingham, WA to Boston, MA. She holds aBS from West Virginia State College and MLIS from the University of South Carolina. When not writing or storytelling, she spends her time gardening, putting up food, and selling antiques.<br />
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Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-48089392421600345162018-08-21T12:12:00.000-07:002018-08-21T12:12:00.425-07:00Root, Hog! Pig Lore of All Kinds<span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><i>A post from my other blog, full of weird information about pigs, of all things---Susanna</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">I'm still talking hog today. After getting started on the topic yesterday I've found even more fascinating lore about the tasty four-legged porker.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">For instance, that word porker. Some people believe it was said by sailors instead of pig, because to say "pig" at sea was very bad luck. People also believed that pigs, especially black pigs, were bad luck, and could even become possessed by evil spirits (remember The Amityville Horror?). An often-repeated theme in ghost stories is the sound of hogs grunting under a porch or building. I have heard this several times from people telling me about a haunted house in their area. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Seeing a black hog was considered to be a sign of portending death. Pigs are often connected in superstitions to darkness, death and general bad luck. Some people believe this is because they have cloven hooves. Pigs are also said to be able to see the wind,although what good that is I don't know, and to be afraid of mirrors. <b> </b> In the UK, "It is unlucky to have a pig cross your path - turn your back till it is gone - and if it begins to make a rather strange whining noise then there is to be a death in the family." From <a href="http://whimsy.org/" style="color: #898989; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Whimsy.org</b></a></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">In eastern coastal Africa, people believed that carrying a pig bone in their pocket would ward off bad luck. Boar tusks are considered symbols of manliness and power in some cultures, and in New Guinea, the more pig's teeth a man has on a necklace the wealthy and important he is thought to be. Carrying a boar's tooth in your pocket was believed to prevent or cure toothache in the Ozarks, according to folklorist and collector Vance Randolph; one would carry it a pocket on whichever side the bad tooth was. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">The<b> <a href="http://irishimbasbooks.com/irish-folklore-beware-the-black-pig/" style="color: #898989; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Irish legend of the Black Pig</a> </b>tells of a mythical black sow with poison skin that went, well, hog-wild. She began eating people and generally terrorizing the countryside. She is supposedly buried under a mound known as The Grave of the Black Pig. More Irish folklore connected to pigs can be found at <b><a href="https://randomdescent.wordpress.com/2016/04/17/pigs-in-folklore/" style="color: #898989; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">this excellent blog</a></b>.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.clker.com/cliparts/M/g/f/S/e/9/boar-silhouette-md.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #898989; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEiMoVUR98dmyr3eg1rdFRgzGxuiseZx8x515DpOiIenw1qy-akxRJy8SYN8dPIu61vv1pYm0Sm58_n61CNW0GJ10WHwmtnVqeXxNyl4iHqUfw2MGOzIAnJO988E8UC3S6_h-gNuQMqKE_gW-nBW9pt70yCXyUCy-a_y0TOj25UXoQ=s0-d" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">The Welsh have their own tales of mythic boars. For example: "<span style="color: #333333;">Celtic and Arthurian myth has many stories of boar hunts. In a Welsh tale from the Mabinogion, Culhwch seeks to win the hand of his beloved Olwen. He is clearly keen: Olwen's father, Ysbaddaden, is a forbidding giant who issues Culhwch with a lengthy list of ridiculously difficult tasks to fulfil before he can marry. The final tasks are to cut Ysbaddaden's hair and shave off his beard. The giant's beard was so tough that to soften it Culhwch had to obtain the blood of the Black Witch. And the only thing sharp enough to cut the beard was the tusk of Ysgithyrwn, the wildest boar in the land. After killing this boar, Culhwch (with help from his cousin Arthur), had to get the only scissors and comb up to the task of dealing with the giant's hair. These just happened to be between the ears of Twrch Trwth, an Irish king who had been transformed into an irate boar with poisonous bristles." From the <b><a href="http://treesforlife.org.uk/forest/wild-boar/" style="color: #898989; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Trees for Life</a></b> website.</span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="color: #333333;"> </span> <span style="color: #333333;">The Jack Tales of Appalachia include several tales where Jack comes to grips with contrary hogs, like Jack and the Varmints, where Jack must deal with a wild hog, a unicorn and a lion. There is also the tale of <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=eEyxb1cs6BUC&pg=PA78&lpg=PA78&dq=Jack+Tales+hogs&source=bl&ots=LuIr7ioWMo&sig=WJj5WWa3r-RzMacq9vd_GTz3HXg&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjsyefiv63QAhXHDiwKHVtMAjcQ6AEIIDAB#v=onepage&q=Jack%20Tales%20hogs&f=false" style="color: #898989; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><b>Jack and the Devil</b></a>, when Jack tricks the Devil several times over, including a hog-raising venture they embarked on together.<i> (This tale is similar to the folktale Tops and Bottoms.) </i></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://ztevetevans.files.wordpress.com/2016/02/the_prodigal_son_tending_the_swine.jpg?w=347&h=219" imageanchor="1" style="color: #898989; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://ztevetevans.files.wordpress.com/2016/02/the_prodigal_son_tending_the_swine.jpg?w=347&h=219" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="color: #333333;"><i><br /></i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">The ancient British city of Bath is tied by legend to a stange tale of pigs. A young prince named Bladud was sent to Greece to study and contracted leprosy there. Realizing that he could not hope to be King with such a disease, he went into the countryside and worked as a swineherd, looking after pigs. Unfortunately, his pigs caught the disease from him. The man had no luck it seems! Until one day his pigs crossed the river Avon and wallowed in the hot mud from a mineral spring. The pigs came out of their mudbath completely cured. This place is now called Swineford. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.joyweesemoll.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/20140911_england_rick_013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #898989; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/proxy/AVvXsEh2ILoMDqvlMVAELbgPMkOhsnYyY62YVe79YZFRpDsyExTEK14JnJgs2C5_mphdaNoB_thycMuwD4ERUyohSlzjL__91yN08BQ64UzDFE6ZZD9sdRWtHrtCZwBaon95bdp8kWGToM-GI2pws_QH7N1oDd_ltNDYgzIkaMjOyg5gTP4raddQwsrmdxb7lRqud_3vSsdi=s0-d" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="246" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">The prince, on seeing this, also bathed in the mud and was cured. He established the baths at the place, and dedicated them to <b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sulis" style="color: #898989; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Sulis or Sul</a></b>, the Celtic goddess of miracle cures.<i> (Su, by the way is Old English for <b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pig" style="color: #898989; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">sow</a></b>--and possibly where the hog call "suuu-eeee" comes from. So which came first, the goddess or the sow?) <b><a href="https://ztevetevans.wordpress.com/2016/02/09/the-legendary-necromancer-king-bladud/" style="color: #898989; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Read more at Under the Influence</a></b>.</i></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Our porcine friends even played a role (probably not a happy one for them) in ancient Norse Yule celebrations, as a hog would be slaughtered as sacrifice to the god Frey (god of farming and fertility); the meat would later be cooked, which is probably the source of the traditional Christmas ham. (Freya, the Norse goddess of love, wealth and war, is often portrayed riding on a boar),</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Pigs, goddesses and gods? There are, <b><a href="http://meadhall.homestead.com/boarspigsandmyth.html" style="color: #898989; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">as this article shows</a></b>, more connections between them than I would ever have supposed.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/7/71/Pig-faced_Lady_of_Manchester_Square.jpg/300px-Pig-faced_Lady_of_Manchester_Square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #898989; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/7/71/Pig-faced_Lady_of_Manchester_Square.jpg/300px-Pig-faced_Lady_of_Manchester_Square.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="248" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Pig-faced women were an odd folk belief from the 19th century. According to the tales, there were women who looked like normal women, except for having the face of a pig. Rumors spread about wealthy women who were recluses because of this condition, and folk legends sprang up about women who called poor children "pigs" and whose faces were changed to that of a pig by a curse or evil spell placed on them for their meanness and miserliness. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"> </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">In New England this legend also exists but there it is the Pigman, and he is a creature to be feared. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">And lastly, there is this strange account of a wild pig <b><a href="http://www.hawaiinewsnow.com/story/26114466/wild-pig-captured-on-sullivans-island-beach-after-swimming-from-ocean" style="color: #898989; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">found swimming in the ocean</a></b>. A true tale, as it turns out, but certainly the stuff from which legends are made. And de-bunked--for in old days people believed that a pig could not swimm because it would cut it's own throat with its trotters.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">All right, enough already about pigs! Anyone ready for some nice crispy bacon?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #343434; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.</span>Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4571638772066098432.post-55042963049737979432018-08-16T10:22:00.001-07:002018-08-16T10:22:00.475-07:00Welcome!<br />
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We are the Celtic Storytellers, Susanna Connelly Holstein and Judi Tarowsky.<br />
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This blog is just beginning, so stay tuned for more information as we develop and expand our offerings here.Granny Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01129064020727041161noreply@blogger.com0