The expression ‘Mad as a March Hare’ comes from the displays of hare boxing that takes place as the Hare mating season begins. And no, it’s not male hares fighting in the spirit of romantic rivalry, but the female hares fighting off unwanted attention from the males. Hares are solitary creatures, and the mating season is, perhaps, particularly difficult for them. The Country File website has more on the subject. www.countryfile.com
There are also March Kittens and March Chickens. Edward Topsell in his ‘History of Four-footed Beasts‘ 1607 says the best Kittens to keep are those born in March. ‘The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby Opened‘ 1669 says: ‘Keep a black cock hatched in March as a protection against evil spirits: his crowing terrifies them.’ He also give a recipe for Cock Ale:
Eight gallons of Ale, a boiled March Cock, four pounds of stoned Raisins, half a pound of dates, nutmegs, mace. Beat the ingredients in a mortar, add to two quarts of Sherry. Add to the ale. Stop it in a container for 6 or 7 days. Bottle it, drink after a month.
Very weird. I challenge my readers to try it and let me know how it goes?
The hare is a sacred animal, it was sacred to Aphrodite:
‘For you know, I imagine, what is said of the hare, that it possesses the gift of Aphrodite to an unusual degree. At any rate it is said of the female that while she suckles the young she has borne, she bears another litter to share the same milk; forthwith she conceives again, nor is there any time at all when she is not carrying young.’
Classical Texts Library. Philostratus the Elder, ‘Imagines’ Book 1.1-15 c 3rd Century AD. Translated by Arthur Fairbanks.
Research reported by Exeter University suggests that hares were worshipped in pre-Roman Britain.Julius Caesar wrote:
“The Britons consider it contrary to divine law to eat the hare, the chicken, or the goose.”
‘The Battle for Gaul’ Translation by Wiseman, Anne, Wiseman, T. P. Published by Penguin Random House, 1980 ISBN 10: 0701125047 (TP Wiseman is my professor for Classical Studies at Leicester University)
Hares are thought to be the original Easter Bunny although finding good evidence before Germany in the early modern period is difficult. There is a tradition that witches can be scared away at Easter. Exactly, how this works is not clear, but it has been said that witches could take on the form of a hare, and so Hare Pie and hare meat was eaten at Easter to rid the land of the witches. Or you could have a jugged hare. Jugging is cooking a whole animal in a container over water. Here is a recipe for jugged wild hare. Remember, you are not allowed to shot or trap them on a Sunday or on Christmas Day! For a discussion of hares and folklore, click here:
A jointed hare’s foot was considered very lucky and a remedy against gout, stomach pains and insomnia. (The Perpetual Almanack of Folklore by Charles Kightly, which I have used several times in this piece.) You can buy one on eBay. (Don’t click the links, it’s not an advert but a picture of an advert). I remember friends having rabbit feet which they carried around with them often on key rings?
For March 6th, Ovid in his Almanac Poem called ‘Fasti’ (Book III: March 6) tells the story of Vesta, who in Greek, is Hestria, and is depicted on the Parthenon Marbles, standing near Zeus and Athene. She was the Goddess of the Hearth, of the fire that keeps families warm, and fed. She had 6 Virgins as her Priestesses, and they had to remain 30 years, from before puberty, as a virgin or they suffered burial alive. Any partners in sin were beaten to death. At the end of their term they could marry, retire, or renew their vows.
At the beginning of Book 3 Ovid tells us the story of Rome’s foundation, and how Mars took Silvia the Vestal while she slept. She later gave birth to Romulus and Remus
The Vestal Virgins tended Vesta’s hearth, and it was not supposed to go out, as it had, in theory come from Troy with Aeneas. Also, housed in Vesta’s Temple was the Palladium, which was a wooden status of Pallas Athene, that kept Troy, then Rome free from invasion. Odysseus and Diomedes had stolen it just before the Trojan Horse episode ending the 10-year-long Trojan War.
(I just asked that question of Google, and he/she/it said it lasted 1hr 55 minutes. On closer examination, Google highlighted a reference to a film about Troy! I have a strong feeling that Google search is getting worse as the AI engines take over the control of the search from database search engines. Once upon a time, Google used to fetch what you asked for. Now it acts like a modern quiz show – giving the answer that will please most people! Finding anything specific is much harder than it was. Or so I think.)
The Temple of Vesta was in Rome’s Forum, and it was a circular temple or a Tholos. Next to the Sacred Shrine at Bath was a circular Tholos, which may have been dedicated also to Vesta.
Reconstruction of the Temple of Vesta in Rome
Here is what Ovid says in his March 6th entry:
When the sixth sun climbs Olympus’ slopes from ocean, And takes his way through the sky behind winged horses, All you who worship at the shrine of chaste Vesta, Give thanks to her, and offer incense on the Trojan hearth. To the countless titles Caesar chose to earn, The honour of the High Priesthood was added. Caesar’s eternal godhead protects the eternal fire, You may see the pledges of empire conjoined. Gods of ancient Troy, worthiest prize for that Aeneas Who carried you, your burden saving him from the enemy, A priest of Aeneas’ line touches your divine kindred: Vesta in turn guard the life of your kin! You fires, burn on, nursed by his sacred hand: Live undying, our leader, and your flames, I pray.
Caesar is Julius Caesar. Aeneas was the last Trojan and survived the end of Troy. He came to Italy, found a Kingdom (Latium) in which his descendent, Romulus, would found Rome. This is told in Virgil’s Aeneid. So the Romans considered themselves to be Trojans.
The new City chose Mars, the Roman God of War, father of their founder – as its patron God because it suited the Romans and their destiny to rule the world. So March was named after Mars, and, unlike other Calendars the Kalends of Mars (1st March) was the beginning of the Roman year. (At least in Rome’s early days as we discussed on March 1st). Ovid in the ‘Fasti’ tells makes the point, through Romulus’s voice and explains something about the various Calendars run by different tribes/Cities:
‘And the founder of the eternal City said: ‘Arbiter of War, from whose blood I am thought to spring, (And to confirm that belief I shall give many proofs), I name the first month of the Roman year after you: The first month shall be called by my father’s name.’ The promise was kept: he called the month after his father. This piety is said to have pleased the god. And earlier, Mars was worshipped above all the gods: A warlike people gave him their enthusiasm. Athens worshipped Pallas: Minoan Crete, Diana: Hypsipyleís island of Lemnos worshipped Vulcan: Juno was worshipped by Sparta and Pelopsí Mycenae, Pine-crowned Faunus by Maenalian Arcadia: Mars, who directs the sword, was revered by Latium: Arms gave a fierce people possessions and glory. If you have time examine various calendars. And you’ll find a month there named after Mars. It was third in the Alban, fifth in the Faliscan calendar, Sixth among your people, Hernican lands. The position’s the same in the Arician and Alban, And Tusculum’s whose walls Telegonus made. It’s fifth among the Laurentes, tenth for the tough Aequians, First after the third the folk of Cures place it, And the Pelignian soldiers agree with their Sabine Ancestors: both make him the god of the fourth month. In order to take precedence over all these, at least, Romulus gave the first month to the father of his race. Nor did the ancients have as many Kalends as us: Their year was shorter than ours by two months.
This section mentions the Sabines, these were a neighbouring tribe. The Romans were short of women, so they kidnapped the Sabine Women, in what became known as the Rape of the Sabine Women. People argue as to whether they were raped or kidnapped, and there is some concentration on how Romulus worked hard to convince them that it was done out of necessity for Rome’s future. The Women, or some of them, certainly tried to escape. Many became pregnant, and the Sabine Army approached and entered Rome to free their women and enact revenge on their neighbours. Ovid tells the story of Hersilia, Romulus wife talking to the Women, then the poem returns to Mars’ viewpoint, and ends with a beautiful description of spring in March.
The battle prepares, but choose which side you will pray for: Your husbands on this side, your fathers are on that. The question is whether you choose to be widows or fatherless: I will give you dutiful and bold advice. She gave counsel: they obeyed and loosened their hair, And clothed their bodies in gloomy funeral dress. The ranks already stood to arms, preparing to die, The trumpets were about to sound the battle signal, When the ravished women stood between husband and father, Holding their infants, dear pledges of love, to their breasts. When, with streaming hair, they reached the centre of the field, They knelt on the ground, their grandchildren, as if they understood, With sweet cries, stretching out their little arms to their grandfathers: Those who could, called to their grandfather, seen for the first time, And those who could barely speak yet, were encouraged to try. The arms and passions of the warriors fall: dropping their swords Fathers and sons-in-law grasp each other’s hands, They embrace the women, praising them, and the grandfather Bears his grandchild on his shield: a sweeter use for it.
Hence the Sabine mothers acquired the duty, no light one, To celebrate the first day, my Kalends. Either because they ended that war, by their tears, In boldly facing the naked blades, Or because Ilia happily became a mother through me, Mothers justly observe the rites on my day. Then winter, coated in frost, at last withdraws, And the snows vanish, melted by warm suns: Leaves, once lost to the cold, appear on the trees, And the moist bud swells in the tender shoot: And fertile grasses, long concealed, find out Hidden paths to lift themselves to the air. Now the field’s fruitful, now ís the time for cattle breeding, Now the bird on the bough prepares a nest and home: It’s right that Roman mothers observe that fruitful season, Since in childbirth they both struggle and pray. Add that, where the Roman king kept watch, On the hill that now has the name of Esquiline, A temple was founded, as I recall, on this day, By the Roman women in honour of Juno. But why do I linger, and burden your thoughts with reasons? The answer you seek is plainly before your eyes. My mother, Juno, loves brides: crowds of mothers worship me: Such a virtuous reason above all befits her and me.í Bring the goddess flowers: the goddess loves flowering plants: Garland your heads with fresh flowers,
In 2023, I saw my first Daffodil in Hackney in a Council Estate on 12 Jan 2023) and see them popping up around and about. Mine were not yet more than green leaves, but they are now coming out. My first daffodil in 2024 was outside my first floor window a week ago, but now Daffodils are appearing in the south-facing front of my house, but not yet in the North facing, canal side garden.
12 Jan 2023. Hackney, London, the first Daffodil.
Their formal name is Narcissus. The Roman natural historian, Pliny tells us that the plant was ‘named Narcissus from narkē not from the fabulous boy.’ Narkē is the Greek word from which we derive the word narcotic, and this is a reference to the narcotic properties of the narcissus. An extract of the bulb when applied to open wounds produced numbness of the whole nervous system and paralysis of the heart. The flowers are also slightly poisonous, which led to their use as an emetic – to bring on vomiting when it was felt necessary that the stomach be emptied. It was used to treat hysteria and epilepsy; treating children with bronchial catarrh; and epidemic dysentery; among Arabian doctors it was used to cure baldness and as an aphrodisiac. (A Modern Herbal by Mrs M Grieve.) Please remember these are not recommendations for use medicinally, but are historic uses and may be dangerous.)
The fabulous boy, mentioned by Pliny, was Narcissus. Narcissus, according to the Roman Poet Ovid, met the nymph Echo, and she fell in love with the beautiful boy. He spurned her, and she faded until all that remained of her was her voice – the echo we hear.
Nemesis, the Goddess of Revenge (the one with the fiery sword) decided on revenge upon the handsome boy. She lured the thirsty youth to a fountain, where he saw an image of a breathtakingly handsome boy and fell in love. It was an image of himself, and he faded from life realising he would always be unfulfilled in his love, He eventually metamorphised into a white and yellow flower which was named after him.
Daffodils are mentioned in a list of Spring Flowers by Shakespeare in the pastoral play The Winter’s Tale:
(Please note that as you read Shakespeare’s words below that Prosperpina is the wife of Pluto, the God of the Underworld, Dis, is another name for him, Cytherea is the Goddess of Beauty and Love. Phoebus is the Sun God. And the Spring Flowers are Daffodils, violets, primroses, oxlips(primula), Crown Imperial (Fritillaria imperialis), Lilies, flower-De-luce (Iris)
Perdita to Camillo
Out, alas! You’d be so lean that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. (To Florizel) I would I had some flowers o’th’ spring, that might Become your time of day – (to the Shepherdesses) That wear upon your virgin branches yet Your maidenheads growing. O Proserpina, For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let’st fall From Dis’s waggon! Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength – a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one: O, these I lack To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend To strew him o’er and o’er!
WT IV.iv.110.2
The reference to Daffodils suggests that for Shakespeare they are around to withstand the March Winds before the Swallows arrive in April. With selective breeding, early flowering species have been developed and now February and even January are within the scope of the glorious bulb. (here is a post on winter flowering varieties)
Once a noisy Nymph, (who never held her tongue when others spoke, who never spoke till others had begun) mocking Echo, spied him as he drove, in his delusive nets, some timid stags.—For Echo was a Nymph, in olden time,—and, more than vapid sound,—possessed a form: and she was then deprived the use of speech, except to babble and repeat the words, once spoken, over and over. Juno confused her silly tongue, because she often held that glorious goddess with her endless tales, till many a hapless Nymph, from Jove’s embrace, had made escape adown a mountain. But for this, the goddess might have caught them. Thus the glorious Juno, when she knew her guile; “Your tongue, so freely wagged at my expense, shall be of little use; your endless voice, much shorter than your tongue.” At once the Nymph was stricken as the goddess had decreed;—and, ever since, she only mocks the sounds of others’ voices, or, perchance, returns their final words.
One day, when she observed Narcissus wandering in the pathless woods, she loved him and she followed him, with soft and stealthy tread.—The more she followed him the hotter did she burn, as when the flame flares upward from the sulphur on the torch. Oh, how she longed to make her passion known! To plead in soft entreaty! to implore his love! But now, till others have begun, a mute of Nature she must be. She cannot choose but wait the moment when his voice may give to her an answer. Presently the youth, by chance divided from his trusted friends, cries loudly, “Who is here?” and Echo, “Here!” Replies. Amazed, he casts his eyes around, and calls with louder voice, “Come here!” “Come here!” She calls the youth who calls.—He turns to see who calls him and, beholding naught exclaims, “Avoid me not!” “Avoid me not!” returns. He tries again, again, and is deceived by this alternate voice, and calls aloud; “Oh let us come together!” Echo cries, “Oh let us come together!” Never sound seemed sweeter to the Nymph, and from the woods she hastens in accordance with her words, and strives to wind her arms around his neck. He flies from her and as he leaves her says, “Take off your hands! you shall not fold your arms around me. Better death than such a one should ever caress me!” Naught she answers save, “Caress me!” Thus rejected she lies hid in the deep woods, hiding her blushing face with the green leaves; and ever after lives concealed in lonely caverns in the hills. But her great love increases with neglect; her miserable body wastes away, wakeful with sorrows; leanness shrivels up her skin, and all her lovely features melt, as if dissolved upon the wafting winds—nothing remains except her bones and voice—her voice continues, in the wilderness; her bones have turned to stone. She lies concealed in the wild woods, nor is she ever seen on lonely mountain range; for, though we hear her calling in the hills, ’tis but a voice, a voice that lives, that lives among the hills.
Thus he deceived the Nymph and many more, sprung from the mountains or the sparkling waves; and thus he slighted many an amorous youth.—and therefore, some one whom he once despised, lifting his hands to Heaven, implored the Gods, “If he should love deny him what he loves!” and as the prayer was uttered it was heard by Nemesis, who granted her assent.
There was a fountain silver-clear and bright, which neither shepherds nor the wild she-goats, that range the hills, nor any cattle’s mouth had touched—its waters were unsullied—birds disturbed it not; nor animals, nor boughs that fall so often from the trees. Around sweet grasses nourished by the stream grew; trees that shaded from the sun let balmy airs temper its waters. Here Narcissus, tired of hunting and the heated noon, lay down, attracted by the peaceful solitudes and by the glassy spring. There as he stooped to quench his thirst another thirst increased. While he is drinking he beholds himself reflected in the mirrored pool—and loves; loves an imagined body which contains no substance, for he deems the mirrored shade a thing of life to love. He cannot move, for so he marvels at himself, and lies with countenance unchanged, as if indeed a statue carved of Parian marble. Long, supine upon the bank, his gaze is fixed on his own eyes, twin stars; his fingers shaped as Bacchus might desire, his flowing hair as glorious as Apollo’s, and his cheeks youthful and smooth; his ivory neck, his mouth dreaming in sweetness, his complexion fair and blushing as the rose in snow-drift white. All that is lovely in himself he loves, and in his witless way he wants himself:—he who approves is equally approved; he seeks, is sought, he burns and he is burnt. And how he kisses the deceitful fount; and how he thrusts his arms to catch the neck that’s pictured in the middle of the stream! Yet never may he wreathe his arms around that image of himself. He knows not what he there beholds, but what he sees inflames his longing, and the error that deceives allures his eyes. But why, O foolish boy, so vainly catching at this flitting form? The cheat that you are seeking has no place. Avert your gaze and you will lose your love, for this that holds your eyes is nothing save the image of yourself reflected back to you. It comes and waits with you; it has no life; it will depart if you will only go.
Nor food nor rest can draw him thence—outstretched upon the overshadowed green, his eyes fixed on the mirrored image never may know their longings satisfied, and by their sight he is himself undone. Raising himself a moment, he extends his arms around, and, beckoning to the murmuring forest; “Oh, ye aisled wood was ever man in love more fatally than I? Your silent paths have sheltered many a one whose love was told, and ye have heard their voices. Ages vast have rolled away since your forgotten birth, but who is he through all those weary years that ever pined away as I? Alas, this fatal image wins my love, as I behold it. But I cannot press my arms around the form I see, the form that gives me joy. What strange mistake has intervened betwixt us and our love? It grieves me more that neither lands nor seas nor mountains, no, nor walls with closed gates deny our loves, but only a little water keeps us far asunder. Surely he desires my love and my embraces, for as oft I strive to kiss him, bending to the limpid stream my lips, so often does he hold his face fondly to me, and vainly struggles up. It seems that I could touch him. ‘Tis a strange delusion that is keeping us apart. Whoever thou art, Come up! Deceive me not! Oh, whither when I fain pursue art thou? Ah, surely I am young and fair, the Nymphs have loved me; and when I behold thy smiles I cannot tell thee what sweet hopes arise. When I extend my loving arms to thee thine also are extended me—thy smiles return my own. When I was weeping, I have seen thy tears, and every sign I make thou cost return; and often thy sweet lips have seemed to move, that, peradventure words, which I have never heard, thou hast returned. No more my shade deceives me, I perceive ‘Tis I in thee—I love myself—the flame arises in my breast and burns my heart—what shall I do? Shall I at once implore? Or should I linger till my love is sought? What is it I implore? The thing that I desire is mine—abundance makes me poor. Oh, I am tortured by a strange desire unknown to me before, for I would fain put off this mortal form; which only means I wish the object of my love away. Grief saps my strength, the sands of life are run, and in my early youth am I cut off; but death is not my bane—it ends my woe.—I would not death for this that is my love, as two united in a single soul would die as one.”
He spoke; and crazed with love, returned to view the same face in the pool; and as he grieved his tears disturbed the stream, and ripples on the surface, glassy clear, defaced his mirrored form. And thus the youth, when he beheld that lovely shadow go; “Ah whither cost thou fly? Oh, I entreat thee leave me not. Alas, thou cruel boy thus to forsake thy lover. Stay with me that I may see thy lovely form, for though I may not touch thee I shall feed my eyes and soothe my wretched pains.” And while he spoke he rent his garment from the upper edge, and beating on his naked breast, all white as marble, every stroke produced a tint as lovely as the apple streaked with red, or as the glowing grape when purple bloom touches the ripening clusters. When as glass again the rippling waters smoothed, and when such beauty in the stream the youth observed, no more could he endure. As in the flame the yellow wax, or as the hoar-frost melts in early morning ‘neath the genial sun; so did he pine away, by love consumed, and slowly wasted by a hidden flame. No vermeil bloom now mingled in the white of his complexion fair; no strength has he, no vigor, nor the comeliness that wrought for love so long: alas, that handsome form by Echo fondly loved may please no more.
But when she saw him in his hapless plight, though angry at his scorn, she only grieved. As often as the love-lore boy complained, “Alas!” “Alas!” her echoing voice returned; and as he struck his hands against his arms, she ever answered with her echoing sounds. And as he gazed upon the mirrored pool he said at last, “Ah, youth beloved in vain!” “In vain, in vain!” the spot returned his words; and when he breathed a sad “farewell!” “Farewell!” sighed Echo too. He laid his wearied head, and rested on the verdant grass; and those bright eyes, which had so loved to gaze, entranced, on their own master’s beauty, sad Night closed. And now although among the nether shades his sad sprite roams, he ever loves to gaze on his reflection in the Stygian wave. His Naiad sisters mourned, and having clipped their shining tresses laid them on his corpse: and all the Dryads mourned: and Echo made lament anew. And these would have upraised his funeral pyre, and waved the flaming torch, and made his bier; but as they turned their eyes where he had been, alas he was not there! And in his body’s place a sweet flower grew, golden and white, the white around the gold.
First published in February 2023, revise and republished in February 2024
Full Moon Photos by Natalie Tobert – you can find out more about her work here:
The Goddess Book of Days’ has the the 7th as the Day of Selene and other Moon Goddesses. (February 6th as the Festival of Aphrodite)
Selene is one of the most beguiling of Goddesses as she is the epitome of the Moon (Romans knew her as Luna). She, who gives that silvery, ethereal light to dark days, who appears and disappears to a routine few of us really understand. She is therefore beautiful, beguiling, unknowable. She is the Goddess of Intuition. She brings the tides and the monthly periods, and so is a Goddess of power as well as fertility, pregnancy and so love, and mothers, and babies.
To my mind, far more powerful than Aphrodite, Selene seems much more independent. On the Parthenon Marbles at the British Museum she is shown with her brother Helios, the Sun God; with Hercules – the epitome of male strength, Demeter and Persephone, representing the earth and underworld (or life and death), Athene and her father, Zeus; Iris, the messenger Goddess; Hestia, the Goddess of the home, and Dione with her daughter ,Aphrodite, representing love. At one end, Helios brings up the sun with his Chariot and Horse and at the other, Selene’s horse sinks exhausted in Oceanus after a glorious night of moon shine. It’s a wonderful arrangement, which suggests the scheme was to show a balanced cosmos between female and male forces, framed by the Sun and the Moon.
Cartoon of Elgin Marble, showing Selene’s Horse at the right hand end
I did a longer piece on this pediment of the Parthenon Marbles here
Selene – Moon Goddess by Mike Petrucci -unsplash
I have used several of Natalie Tobert’s photos in my post which I pluck from Natalie’s face facebook feed which is a veritable visual feast. She worked, as an archaeologist at the Museum of London at the same time as me. She is an excellent potter, photographer and artist. Natalie was a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, and a member of Society of Designer Craftsmen. You can see more of her pictures here.
First published in 2022, and revised February 2024.
Paganalia, also known as Sementivae, was a festival dedicated to seed, to Ceres (from whom we get the word cereal) and also the Earth Goddess. (There are many to choice from (Tellus, Demeter, Cybele, Gaia, Rhea etc.). Ceres can be seen on the top left roundel resting on the Globe on the marvellous Ceramic Staircase at the V&A, and in my slightly out of focus photograph below. (To be honest, in real life, it looks a little more like my photo than the gorgeous photo above!)
Ceres represented Agriculture, Mercury Commerce, and Vulcan Industry. Old Photo by the Author.
To create life, we need earth and water to nurture and seeds for fertility. And so into the cold dead world of January the Romans created a festival of sowing. It had two parts, one presided over by Mother Earth (Tellus) and the other by Ceres, the Goddess of Corn. The actual day of the festival (aka Paganalia) was chosen not by rote on a set day of the calendar but by the priests, in accordance with the weather. This seems very sensible, as there is no point sowing seeds in terrible weather conditions. I’m assuming the Priests took professional advice!
On the 24th-26th January Tellus prepared the soil, and in early February seeds were sown under the aegis of Ceres. Tellus Mater (also Terra Mater) was known as Gaia to the Greeks. Gaia was chosen by James Lovelock & Lynn Margulis in the 1970s as the face of their Gaia hypothesis.
To me, the importance of the idea is not the scientific principle that environments co-evolve with the organisms within them but, rather, Gaia as a personification of our world as a complex living ecosystem that we have to care for. Gaia exists as a series of feedback loops, and she will spit us out unless we can control our appetites to live in balance with our alma mater.
This is what Ovid has to say about Sementavia in ‘Fasti’ (www.poetryintranslation.com)
Book I: January 24
I have searched the calendar three or four times, But nowhere found the Day of Sowing: Seeing this, the Muse said: That day is set by the priests, Why are you looking for moveable days in the calendar? Though the day of the feast ís uncertain, its time is known, When the seed has been sown and the land ís productive. You bullocks, crowned with garlands, stand at the full trough, Your labour will return with the warmth of spring. Let the farmer hang the toil-worn plough on its post: The wintry earth dreaded its every wound.
Steward, let the soil rest when the sowing is done, And let the men who worked the soil rest too. Let the village keep festival: farmers, purify the village, And offer the yearly cakes on the village hearths. Propitiate Earth and Ceres, the mothers of the crops, With their own corn, and a pregnant sow ís entrails. Ceres and Earth fulfil a common function: One supplies the chance to bear, the other the soil. Partners in toil, you who improved on ancient days Replacing acorns with more useful foods, Satisfy the eager farmers with full harvest, So they reap a worthy prize from their efforts. Grant the tender seeds perpetual fruitfulness, Don’t let new shoots be scorched by cold snows. When we sow, let the sky be clear with calm breezes, Sprinkle the buried seed with heavenly rain. Forbid the birds, that prey on cultivated land, To ruin the cornfields in destructive crowds. You too, spare the sown seed, you ants, So you’ll win a greater prize from the harvest.
First Published in January 2023, republished in January 2024
Spinning—showing the distaff in the left hand and the spindle or rock in the right hand
I’m not sure what the Three Kings were doing on the day after Epiphany, but, the shepherds, if they were like English farmworkers, would still be on holiday until next Monday, which is Plough Monday. By contrast, the women, according to folk customs, went back to work on the 7th, St. Distaff’s Day, the day after Epiphany.
A distaff is ‘a stick or spindle on to which wool or flax is wound for spinning’ and because of its importance in the medieval and early modern economy it became a synecdoche for women. St Distaff is a ‘canonisation’ of this use of the word. So, a day to celebrate women.
Robert Herrick (1591–1674), born in Cheapside, a Goldsmith, priest, Royalist and Poet wrote in ‘Hesperides’
Partly work and partly play You must on St. Distaff’s Day: From the plough, soon free your team; Then come home and fother them; If the maids a-spinning go, Burn the flax and fire the tow. Bring in pails of water then, Let the maids bewash the men. Give St. Distaff all the right; Then bid Christmas sport good night, And next morrow every one To his own vocation.
In London, the Fraternity of St Anne and St Agnes used to meet at the Church in London with that name. It is near to the (now closed) Museum of London on the junction of Gresham Street and Noble Street, by a corner of the Roman Wall. St Agnes is the patron saint of young girls, abused women and Girl Scouts. St Anne is the mother of the mother of the Son of God, and, thereby, the three generations of women are represented: maidens, mothers, and grandmothers.
The Three Mother Goddesses (and someone else) “Limestone relief depicting four female figures sitting on a bench holding bread and fruit, a suckling baby, a dog and a basket of fruit’ the Museum of London
Archaeologists discovered the sculpture while investigating the Roman Wall at Blackfriars, City of London. Scholars believe it depicts the Celtic Three Mother Goddesses, worshipped in Roman London. The fourth person is a mystery, maybe the patron of the temple(?) where the relief sculpture was displayed before it was used as rubble and became part of the defences of London.
The idea of triple goddesses is a common one. In Folklore and History they have been referred to as Maiden, Mother, and Crone, or even Maiden, Mother and Hag. They come in Roman, Greek, Celtic, Irish, and Germanic forms with names like the Norns, the Three Fates, the Weird Sisters, the Mórrígan and many more. The Three Fates, the Goddess Book of Days says, were celebrated during the Gamelia, the Greco/Roman January Festival to the marriage of Zeus and Juno. The Festival also gives its name to the Athenian month of January.
Natural History Museum, Oxford, K Flude photo.
There was a theory widely held that the original Deities, dating before the spread of farming, were mother goddesses (perhaps as depicted by the Venus of Willendorf) who were overthrown by the coming of farmers who worshipped the male gods which destroyed the ancient Matriarchy and replaced it with the current Patriarchy. Jane Ellen Harrison proposed an ancient matriarchal civilization. Robert Graves wrote some interesting, but no longer thought to be very scientific studies, on the idea. Neopaganism has taken these ideas forward.
Whatever the truth of the origins of the Three Mother Goddesses, the use of the terms Hag and Crone for the third is a great disservice to the Grandmother figure. These Goddesses represent the importance of the female for human society. The three phases of womanhood are equally as important in the continuation of the species, providing love, support, and experience through the generations. Compare these three generations of supportive deities with Ouranos (Uranus), Cronus (Saturn) and Zeus (Jupiter). Saturn castrated and deposed his father, Uranus. Later, he tried to eat his son, Jupiter. And then Jupiter is nobody’s idea of an ideal father.
Recent work on human evolution has suggested that the role of the Grandmother might be crucial to our species’ ability to live beyond the age of fertility. Because, in evolutionary terms, once an individual cannot procreate their usefulness for the survival of the genes is finished. So what’s the point of putting resources into their survival? The theory is that, particularly with women, the Grandmother has such an impact on the survival of the next generation, that longevity beyond fertility makes evolutionary sense, and is selected for.
Yesterday was dedicated to Joan of Arc, and today is the anniversary of the breaking of the fabulous Portland Vase in 1845 by a drunken visitor to the British Museum. It looks immaculate despite being smashed into myriad pieces, a wonder of the conservator’s art. To see the vase and read its story, go to the BM web site here:
In the orthodox church, дед Мороз (Ded Moroz= father of frost), accompanied by Cнегурочка (Snieguroshka= fairy of the snow) brings gifts on New year’s eve, (which is on January 7th). He travels with a horse drawn troika.
First Published in 2022, and revised in January 2024
Marble statue of Bacchus from the Temple of Mithras London. The inscription reads ‘hominibus vagis vitam’ Translation … (give) life to men who wander.
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love sent to me: 8 Maids a Milking; 7 Swans a Swimming; 6 Geese a Laying 5 Golden Rings 4 Calling Birds; 3 French Hens; 2 Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree
The 8th day is the day of the Throbbing Head. Leonard Cohen wrote in ‘Closing Time’ about drinking to excess. I like to think he refers to Christmas and New Year’s Day:
‘And the whole damn place goes crazy twice And it’s once for the devil and it’s once for Christ But the boss don’t like these dizzy heights We’re busted in the blinding lights of closing time.‘
So what you need is a hangover cure. Nature provides many plants that can soothe headaches. And in the midst of the season of excess, lets start with a hangover cure.
Common ivy Photo by Zuriel Galindo from unsplash
Ivy, ‘is a plant of Bacchus’…. ‘the berries taken before one be set to drink hard, preserve from drunkenness…. and if one hath got a surfeit by drinking of wine, the speediest cure is to drink a draft of the same wine, wherein a handful of ivy leaves (being first bruised) have been boiled.’
Culpeper Herbal 1653 quoted in ‘the Perpetual Almanac’ by Charles Kightly
The image of Bacchus above is from a fascinating article by the Museum of London on wine making in Roman Britain. Bacchus is often shown with an ivy crown around his head as Romans were wont to wear them to fend of hangovers.
Back to our hangover cures:
Crack Willow Trees on the Oxford Canal, August 2021
One of the best documented is willow bark. Here is a record of how simple it could be to use:
‘I am nearly 70 years old and was born and bred in Norfolk… My father, if he had a ‘skullache’ as he called it, would often chew a new growth willow twig, like a cigarette in the mouth.’
‘A Dictionary of Plant Lore by Roy Vickery (Pg 401)
In the 19th Century Willow was found to contain salicylic acid from which aspirin was derived. As a child I remember chewing liquorice sticks in a similar way, although supposedly for the pleasure and the sweetness not for the many medicinal virtues of the plant.
Yesterday’s weather on the 5th Day of Christmas was warm and wet. This means, according to Gervase Markham, that the 5th Month, May will be sunny and warm. (source: ‘The English Husbandman’ of 1635. )
The Day of Nymphs in Greece dedicated to Artemis, Andromeda, Ariadne, Ceres. (according to the Goddess Book of Days by Diane Stein.)
In the Northern Tradition, the day begins at Dusk, so Christmas Day begins on Christmas Eve. So many countries celebrate the eve as much or more than the day.
December 24th is also a day for Mothers, as tomorrow, the 25th, will be born Jesus, Mithras, Attis, Saturn, Apollo, and the Day of the Birth of the Invincible Sun. And we think of Mary, Isis, Theia, the Three Mother Goddesses and mothers everywhere.
The Sun Gods have quite a complicated interrelationship. Zeus, and Apollo are both also considered to be Sun Gods. Apollo is particularly interrelated to Helios, the Greek God who drives the Chariot that carries the Sun across the skies every day. Sol, perhaps the original religion of Constantine the Great, has been suggested as a response of the Romans to a trend towards monotheism in the later Roman period. Early worship of Jesus is full of solar metaphors, Churches are orientated East West. Mithras and Attis both wear the same Phrygian Hat.
Did the Celts have a sun-god? Belenos was a contender, but linguists are proposing his name does not come from words meaning bright but from strong. Lugh’s name is suggested to mean ‘shining’ but his attributes are more of a warrior than a sun god. Taranis is probably the best candidate, but he is more of a sky or thunder god than specifically a sun god. However, his symbol is a wheel and the wheel is symbolic of the turning of the year, which is caused by the movement of the Sun relative to the Earth.
December 25th was the date of the Roman Solstice but the slipage of dates, caused by the inability of humans to keep to a proper Solar calendar, meant that the actual solstice varies from the ‘official’ solstice.
First Published 24th December 2022, Republished 25th December 2023
Abney Park cemetery in winter photo by Harriet Salsibury
Hesiod is a contemporary of Homer, and therefore one of the first European poets, one of the first commentators on Greek life, thought, religion, mythology, farming and time keeping. ‘Works and Days’ is his Farmers Almanac and therefore long overdue an appearance on my Almanac of the Past.
Hesiod’s poems also introduce the idea of the epoch, past glorious epochs of Gold and Bronze with a further descent to his own epoch which was of the base metal age of Iron. In the 19th Century, European antiquarians, imbued with a humanist belief in Progress, developed the idea of Stone, Bronze and Iron Ages, an almost direct opposite of Hesiod’s, downhill-all-the-way to the present idea.
Hesiod also brings in early references to Prometheus and Pandora, two of the great myths of the flaws of humanity. And please read
This is what he says of Winter. It is from a translation by Christopher Kelk, available to download here (I have added line breaks after full stops, just for ease of reading.)
…. you should make A detour during winter when the cold Keeps men from work, for then a busy man May serve his house. Let hardship not take hold, Nor helplessness, through cruel winter’s span, Nor rub your swollen foot with scrawny hand.
An idle man will often, while in vain He hopes, lacking a living from his land, Consider crime. A needy man will gain Nothing from hope while sitting in the street And gossiping, no livelihood in sight.
Say to your slaves in the midsummer heat: “There won’t always be summer, shining bright – Build barns.” Lenaion’s evil days, which gall The oxen, guard yourself against. Beware Of hoar-frosts, too, which bring distress to all When the North Wind blows, which blasts upon the air In horse-rich Thrace and rouses the broad sea, Making the earth and woods resound with wails.
He falls on many a lofty-leafed oak-tree And on thick pines along the mountain-vales And fecund earth, the vast woods bellowing. The wild beasts, tails between their legs, all shake.
Although their shaggy hair is covering Their hides, yet still the cold will always make Their way straight through the hairiest beast.
Straight through An ox’s hide the North Wind blows and drills Through long-haired goats. His strength, though, cannot do Great harm to sheep who keep away all chills With ample fleece. He makes old men stoop low But soft-skinned maids he never will go through – They stay indoors, who as yet do not know Gold Aphrodite’s work, a comfort to Their darling mothers, and their tender skin They wash and smear with oil in winter’s space And slumber in a bedroom far within The house, when in his cold and dreadful place The Boneless gnaws his foot (the sun won’t show Him pastures but rotate around the land Of black men and for all the Greeks is slow To brighten).
That’s the time the hornèd and The unhorned beasts of the wood flee to the brush, Teeth all a-chatter, with one thought in mind – To find some thick-packed shelter, p’raps a bush Or hollow rock. Like one with head inclined Towards the ground, spine shattered, with a stick To hold him up, they wander as they try To circumvent the snow.
As I ordain, Shelter your body, too, when snow is nigh – A fleecy coat and, reaching to the floor, A tunic. Both the warp and woof must you Entwine but of the woof there must be more Than of the warp. Don this, for, if you do, Your hair stays still, not shaking everywhere.
Be stoutly shod with ox-hide boots which you Must line with felt. In winter have a care To sew two young kids’ hides to the sinew Of an ox to keep the downpour from your back, A knit cap for your head to keep your ears From getting wet.
It’s freezing at the crack Of dawn, which from the starry sky appears When Boreas drops down: then is there spread A fruitful mist upon the land which falls Upon the blessed fields and which is fed By endless rivers, raised on high by squalls.
Sometimes it rains at evening, then again, When the thickly-compressed clouds are animated By Thracian Boreas, it blows hard. Then It is the time, having anticipated All this, to finish and go home lest you Should be enwrapped by some dark cloud, heaven-sent, Your flesh all wet, your clothing drenched right through.
This is the harshest month, both violent And harsh to beast and man – so you have need To be alert. Give to your men more fare Than usual but halve your oxen’s feed. The helpful nights are long, and so take care.
Keep at this till the year’s end when the days And nights are equal and a diverse crop
Keep at this till the year’s end when the days And nights are equal and a diverse crop Springs from our mother earth and winter’s phase Is two months old and from pure Ocean’s top Arcturus rises, shining, at twilight.
Acturus is not seen in winter, and in the Northern Hemisphere its rising (50 days after the winter solstice) and has always been associated with the advent of spring.
Boreas was the winged God of the North wind, which bore down from the cold Mountains of Thrace (north of Macedonia). One of his daughters, Khione, was the Goddess of Snow. Lenaion was associated with January one of the festivals of Dionysus, and a theatrical season in Athens particularly for comedy.
Roman Bust of Hesiod (Wikipedia photo by Yair Hakla) Neues Museum
First published 15th December 2022, republished December 2023.
From the Perpetual Almanack of Folklore by Charles Kightly
This is a revision of a page I wrote on 31st October 2022.
I began my perpetual Almanac of the Past two years ago on the 31st October 2021. This was the first line:
‘This blog is to celebrate the Year. I will post, hopefully, once a day, so we can follow the seasons, as they happen naturally, and as people in Britain and Ireland have responded to the changes in the year.’
It was inspired by Charles Knightly’s book, which is a pot-pourri of folklore taken mostly from old Almanacs. I haven’t managed to post every day, nearly managed it in the winter but falling badly behind in the Summer when I take Road Scholar groups around the UK. My plan is to improve key posts and repost, and to fill in the gaps. Another aim is to give my Almanac more London specific content.
Cover of Charles Knightly’s Perpetual Almanac
I started on Halloween because Samhain (pronounced Sow-in) was the beginning of the year for the Celtic world. It may mean Summer’s End. In Wales, it is Calan Gaeaf (first day of winter) and Kala Goafiv (beginning of November in Brittany).
For the Romans, it is the day that Adonis is injured hunting a wild boar, against his lover, Venus’s advice, he descends to the underworld. Nature withers and dies until he comes back. His blood stains a flower and was transformed into the Crimson Anemone. There is a similar story in Babylon of Ishtar and Tammuz.
By Alexander Marshall, crimson and other anemones Binyon 1898-1907 / Catalogue of drawings by British artists, and artists of foreign origin working in Great Britain (5(c))
He comes back again on May Day when he meets Venus again the world flourishes and is bright and warm.
Julius Caesar says the Gauls venerated the God Dis Pater on this day – an aspect of Pluto, the God of the Underworld, ruler of the Dead. There was a Roman Festival on the Kalends of November dedicated to Pomona, the goddess of the fruit of trees. This may influence the use of Apples, which are prominent in Halloween festivities.
