Snail Jelly? Never will it darken our enchanted doors! ....

Illustration 'The Wee Sick Goblin' by Ida Rentoul Outhwaite

 

 

     At dusk, on the May Day, a Goblin was brought into our midst. He's a terrible colour and can barely stand because his knees will tremble. He seems very mal-nourished and we think he's suffered some sort poisoning from a surfeit of tree-fungus, or possibly bluebell stalks.

 

  Old medic Wala B.Bear has suggested the following remedy - taken DIRECTLY from the late 17th century work by John Chambers. 'A Pocket Herbal; containing the medicinal virtues and uses of the most esteemed native plants; with some remarks on bathing, electricity, &c.'

 

And, yes, I pledge my promise to you that this is a genuine recipe:

 

Snail Jelly

 

 

'Jellies prepared from any animal substance should be taken as often as possible. Snails and Earth Worms, boiled in milk, are very serviceable. 
 Take fresh gathered Snails, as many as you please, take off their shells, and boil them in new milk to a Jelly. While hot dissolve in every pint a drachm of Balsam of Peru, and 2 ounces of the Syrup of Tolu.

 

Jelly of Earth Worms is made in the same manner, except that the Worms are well washed from the soil, wiped in a cloth, and cut in pieces of an inch long.

After boiling in the same manner as above, you may add any sort of spice, and sweeten to your taste.'

                                                                   

                                                                 Well Really!     Tsk!



     Will they never learn? It's the work of Wood Guardian Fae to look after sweet natured creatures like snails  (see left) - and how would this rich soil of ours prosper without the chewing and burrowing of the earth worm?
    Jelly indeed! 

   We'll try our own recipe thank you. There'll be herbs and bark and minerals stirred with an Ogham Tree wand under the new moon - and no creature shall be harmed in the making!

Illustrations   -  (above) from 'The Little Fairy Sister' 1923
(left) from  'The Little Green Road to Fairyland'  1922
by Ida Rentoul Outhwaite 

 

 



Poor old dormice - will it EVER be spring? ....



 

        The Hazel Dormouse is one or the rarest and most beleaguered species of small mammal in the Britain. As luck would have it, the area of southern England where Muddypond lives has a fair abundance of the little creatures, but they are rarely glimpsed. For one thing, they actually hibernate and sleep for about eight months of the year - even longer if the year is like this one with temperatures barely rising above freezing  right into early April!  

   You can read a brief account here of my recent adventures;  learning about successful breeding and  re-introduction programmes at  the 'Wildwood Trust' near Canterbury, Kent.

   Here is an oblivious dormouse, SO fast asleep and resplendent in his ginger fur coat still waiting for warm weather! He's safe in the hands of chief conservationist Hazel Ryan.

      Another reason for their apparent invisibility is that they are nocturnal, and loathe to venture from the shelter of bushes and trees onto the ground. They'll go long distances to find touching aerial branches to run along before they cross a path. Only at hibernation time do they venture down to search out hiding places; forming a circular, indented burrow in leaf litter and filling it snuggly with dried leaves and grasses.

 

      As always on this blog, hedgerow fae Muddypond would like to share with you some of her favourite 'golden age' children's book illustration on the subject in hand.

 

     Firstly from Oliver Herford, who was obviously fond of dormice - he has another poem on the subject "The Elf and the Dormouse" which I will give you soon ...

 

 





 

The Deceitful Dormice

Poem & illustrations by Oliver Herford from his book "Artful Antics" pub 1894

Sleepy Dormouse who had passed

The winter in her nest,

Hearing that spring had come at last

Got up at once and dressed.

And, hastening from her downy house

To hail the new spring day,

She ran against another mouse

That lived across the way.

 

The shock was such, at first the two

Could scarcely speak for lack

Of breath. The each cried "Oh, it's you!

Why, when did you get back ?"

"I've only just return'd, my dear,"

The sleepy dormouse said,

"From Florida - the winters here,

You know, affect my head."

      "Have you, indeed?" exclaimed her friend.

      "I'm glad to see you home.

      I, too have just returned - I spend

     My winters down in Rome."

     With many pawshakes then, at last

     They parted, each to say,

    "I wonder where that creature passed

     The winter  - anyway!".

 

 

 

One below from Margaret Tarrant, the dormouse on the table at the Mad Hatter's tea party.
From 'Alice in Wonderland'  Ward, Lock & Co.1916.

Lastly from Racey Helps in his charming "The Tail of Hunky Dory".
All about the dormouse's adventures with his slightly dyslexic friend the water-shrew 'Shewsbury'. Pub Collins 1958

 

 

 

Don't forget, you can read more about the dormouse re-introduction programme and see some different 'dormouse art' on Muddypond's main website.

 

 

 

To the Little Gentleman in Black Velvet - the folk-lore of Mole ....

   

Illustration - Margaret Tempest from 'Moldy Warp the Mole' by Alson Uttley pub:Collins 1940

 

    Among the madness of the deliberate devastation of  wildlife - the horrendous and stupefyingly unnecessary threat of the British Badger Cull, and the almost unoticed near extinction of our hedgehogs through pesticides and urban encroachment - one fellow at least is doing well! (Sign the largest and most urgent anti-badger cull petition here - or learn more) (Read more about the plight of British hedgehogs here on my blog)

 

     Moley - The Little Gentleman in Black Velvet - the Mould-Warp - still enthusiastically excavating our wild meadows and cricket pitches, still delving and delighting. Still with his place in the heart of folklore and children's literature.

     We can thank our relevant Gods that the cruelty of an ancient 'mole' superstition is now only a shadow over past times. Poor Moley's feet, you see, were believed to be lucky if hung about the neck, also advantageous in the cure of toothache in those terrible pre-dentist times! The main trouble with this being, the charm only worked if the feet were cut from the living mole, and then the little creature must be left to die, not dispatched.

   Why fairy-folk and wood guardians of the past allowed this nonsense to get about I cannot imagine - but then - won't those yet to be born ask that about the 2013  Badger Cull if  (Lord of the Greenwood forbid) we enable it to go ahead?

 

Three illustrations above by Johnny Gruelle from 'The Molehill at Menemshia Creek' pub:Volland 1917

Pleasanter beliefs run:
A mole making fresh hills in a meadow brings fine weather.
Deep burrows forewarn of a severe winter to come.
If you clear mole-hills on St. Sylvester's Day (Dec 31st), the mole will dig no more near that place.
Moles will not touch earth where blood has soaked.

Illustration: Margaret Clayton from 'Bunny Brothers' pub: The Fireside Library 1900

     More worryingly - folklorist Marie Trevelyan, in 'Folk-lore and Folk-stories of Wales' 1909 collected the following:
 'If a mole burrows under a wash-house or dairy, the mistress of the house will die within a year. If a molehill be found among the cabbages in the garden, the master of the house will die before the year is out.'

Illustration by Ernest Aris from 'Willie Mouse' by Alta Tabor - pub:Saalfield Publishing Company

        'Here's to the Little Gentleman in Black Velvet' - is actually an 18th century toast drunk by the followers of Queen Anne!
        In February of 1702, Sorrel, the war stallion of King William 111 fell over a fresh mole hill (or a Wanti-tump) thrown up by an eager 'mould-rat'. King and horse crashed to the ground, the King breaking a collar-bone which festered and within a month William was dead.
 
    Here are those first immortal lines from Kenneth Grahame's 'The Wind in the Willows' - to fill you, like Moley, with a promise of Spring:

     'The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.'

The illustration is by the original  'Willows' artist - famed for his pen & ink, drawings - Ernest H Shepard 1879 - 1976.

   We faere-folk love you Moley the Mould-warp - a toast then of sweetest mead -
'To the Little Gentleman in Black Velvet'.  Cheerio!

 

 

'Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe' .......

Illustration by Margaret Tarrant, from 'The Weather Fairies', 1st published by Medici in 1927

      Frost patterns - a wonder never fully explained - not to this fae's satisfaction anyway. And that's just how we magics like our wonders to be! I found these early on Sunday morning and while I examined them closely, keeping my fingers well away from the burning cold, a poem came to mind.  I remember it was read to me in the depths of January when I was simply a fae-sprig.

     Here too, dotted amongst the verses, is a little enchanted fairy art by some of Muddypond's favourite 'Golden Age' fairy illustrators. Beginning with the original illustration for the poem itself by Charles Robinson ......

Jack Frost

Gabriel Setoun

 

The door was shut, as doors should be,  

Before you went to bed last night;

Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see,  

And left your window silver white.

He must have waited till you slept;  

And not a single word he spoke,

But pencilled o’er the panes and crept

Away again before you woke.

 

Illustration 'Jack Frost'  from 'Arthur Rackham's Book of Pictures'. Pub: Heineman 1913

 

 

And now you cannot see the hills

Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane;

But there are fairer things than these  

His fingers traced on every pane.

 

Rocks and castles towering high;  

Hills and dales, and streams and fields;

And knights in armor riding by,  

With nodding plumes and shining shields.

 

Illustration by H J Ford from 'The Yellow Fairy Book by Andrew Lang 1894

 

And here are little boats, and there

Big ships with sails spread to the breeze;

And yonder, palm trees waving fair  

On islands set in silver seas,

 

And butterflies with gauzy wings;

And herds of cows and flocks of sheep;

And fruit and flowers and all the things  

You see when you are sound asleep.

 

Illustration by Oliver Herford - from 'Ladies Home Journal' 1926

 

 

For, creeping softly underneath  

The door when all the lights are out,

Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe,  

And knows the things you think about.

 

He paints them on the window-pane  

In fairy lines with frozen steam;

And when you wake you see again  

The lovely things you saw in dream.

 

Illustration by Helen Jacobs from 'Land of the Happy Hours' by Stella Mead. 1st pub. Nisbet 1946

 

 

The poem is from the book 'The Child World'  - a collection of poetry by Gabriel Setoun, illustrated by Charles Robinson and first published by Bodley Head 1896. 

Gabriel Setoun is the pen name of Scottish poet Thomas Nicoll Hepburn.

Another -

Jack Frost on the Window-pane

An artist came to our house by night,
Pinched were his features and hard his breath;
His garments were threadbare, his long beard white,
And his fingers were icy and cold as death.

A picture he drew when we crept to bed,
Of hills and forests and valleys and meres.
The sun looked admiringly on it – he fled,
And all that was left of his visit was tears.

from 'The Happy Story Book'  Platt & Munk Co. Author unknown 1918

Two pages from 'King Winter' illustrated by Gustav W.Seitz in 1859

 

 

If you enjoy a bit of Winter - or if you're looking forward to longer days and signs of Spring, there is a new page on Muddypond's main website - 'A Kentish Snowdrop Calendar'

 

 

Meeting the Tomten on a January evening ....

        Finding a favourite Yuletide decoration, carefully wrapped but hiding, reminded me of buying it in Denmark, at least a couple of decades ago! It once had a pair, but that one sadly fell onto the brick hearth and is no more. 

    It had me thinking about a little folk-lore character who doesn't seem to visit these shores. Unlike us faere-folk, he exists exclusively in the heart of Scandinavia with his red hat and bowls of warming porridge.

   He dwells near hard-working mountain farms,  guarding the children and looking after the animals, especially in the hardest of winters. He can speak to each animal or child in a quiet language that only it can understand. He is endlessly loyal.

He is a Tomte.

 

 

    This steadfast little fellow has featured in the Scandinavian psyche for centuries, but his popularity from 19th century onwards can be put down to writer Viktor Rydberg, and in particular his enigmatic poem "Tomten". Here the Tomte ponders on life and time as well his role as unseen family carer.

 

 Here's the first verse - which is also the last - in its original Swedish and then in English:

Tomten - Viktor Ryberg 1881

"Midvinternattens köld är hård, stjärnorna gnistra och glimma. Alla sova i enslig gård djupt under midnattstimma. Månen vandrar sin tysta ban, snön lyser vit på fur och gran, snön lyser vit på taken. Endast tomten är vaken."

"In Midwinter cold and hard,The stars glitter and sparkle Everyone is asleep on this lonely farm, Deep in the winter night. The silver moon is a wanderer, Snow gleams white on pine and fir,Snow gleams white on the roofs. The Tomten alone is awake. "

Find the whole poem here - or read an adaptation of the story "The Tomten"

    Ryberg  wrote another  rhyming tale for children featuring the Tomte in wintertime called   "Lille Viggs äventyr på julafton" or "Vigg’s Christmas Eve Adventure"

 
   In their turn, these poems inspired the amazing Swedish nature artist Harald Wiberg to produce some of the best loved and evocative illustrations from Swedish literature, much bleaker in tone than the earlier work of Jenny Nystrom. Working with writer Astrid Lindgren he created  illustrations for "The Tomten"  and then "The Tomten and the Fox" as well as an adaptation of the original "Christmas Eve Adventure".

Harald Wyberg 1908 - 1986
photo: Harald Borgstrom

Below is an enchanting video with Wiberg "Tomte" illustrations, original Rydberg words and  simply delicious music specially written by Göran M Hägg. I do hope you love it as much as do!

Happy New Year

 

 

 

     If you're interested in old English customs and traditions, you might like to read a little about a Twelfth Night celebration held on the banks of the Thames,
complete with the wintery and holly'd Green Man.    Find it on Muddypond's main website.

 

 

 

 

 

Making rosehip syrup - the last harvest of the year for the faery store-cupboard ...

Vintage illustration from the wonderful Swiss artist Mili Weber c1930, as a postcard.

     

     November - and only after the first frosts - that's the time to collect your rosehips from the hedgerows or gardens to make a batch of rosehip syrup. They may appear to be past their best, but that's just how they should be for this faery-hedgerow-recipe.

    Why is the rosehip beloved by and indispensable to the faere folk of the woods?  Well - because of this syrup!!  It's sweet and strong and packed full of Vitamin C - can be used as a medicine for sore throats and colds straight from the bottle - as it was all over Britain in the war years.

  It can be diluted with water to make a refreshing, tonic drink, said to be very beneficial for joint pain. Or you might just pour a couple of spoonfuls over icecream, cake - perhaps a bowl of winter-warming porridge - sublime!

Rosehips glow in autumn sunshine on the old wild dog rose along the lane.

 

     If the hip almost drops into your hand as you pull it, and feels soft and squashy to the touch - it's perfect!  Even a little discolouration won't hurt.  You don't need to pick vast quantities - just half a kilo, approx. a large bowlful, will make several small jars of deliciously strong, bitter-sweet syrup. Leave enough for the hungry winter birds if you please.

Mid-November hips, picked yesterday - soft, ripe and still smelling of summer

 

Here is the Muddypond Green recipe - tried 'n tested - full 'n flavoursome ....

 

    Ingredients:   (approx)

                      500g (1 lb) sugar

                      1kg (2lb) rosehips - soft and ripe

                      2 litres (3¾ pts) water

*    You will also need a straining or jelly bag to filter the juice overnight.
*    Small jars or bottles (sterilized and hot from the oven) are best, as once opened the syrup won't  last for more than a week.

 

 

    Method:

(1)   Prepare the hips simply by washing, then removing any really discoloured, rotten ones along with large stems or dried flower-bracts.  You can leave the little brown tips as they will all be caught in the filter. Now crush the hips in a pan, using the end of a rolling pin or similar.

(2)   Add 1½ l (just under 3 pts) very hot water, stir and bring to boil, then remove from heat and allow to cool for about 15 mins.

(3)   Strain through a fine-grade jelly bag, drip for 10 mins.
(4)   Return the pulp of hips to the pan and add a further ½ l hot water - stir, bring back to boil, then allow to cool for a further 10 mins.

(5)   Make a final straining through jelly bag - at least 8 hrs or overnight

(6)   Combine juice from both strainings in a pan, bring to boil, reduce heat and simmer until reduced by approx. half.

(7)   Add sugar, heat and dissolve - boil for about 5 minutes. (Not too long - you're not making jam!)

(8)   Pour while hot into the small heated glass jars and seal immediately. (Can also be frozen in small freezer containers).



Bright fruits stand out against the bare twigs in mid November - the hips are adored by small birds.

 

 

      The medicinal properties of rosehips have been employed for centuries - as the great herbal of Nicholas Culpeper, complied in 1652, can testify  .......

 

'The pulp of the hips has a pleasant grateful  acidity, strengthens the stomach, cools the heat of fevers,  good for coughs and spitting of blood, and the scurvy. The seed has been known to do great things against the stone and gravel ; … the best way of preserving its virtues is, by keeping it conserved. '

     Rosehips, picked in their prime make delectable decoration. The pictures above are from one of my favourite craft books - 'Enchanted Circles - the art of making wreaths, garlands and decorative rings.' Author - Elizabeth Jane Lloyd.  Published - Conran Octopus 1990    ISBN 1 85029 271 X

 

 

 

Faery Rings a-plenty, all ready for the Samhain dance ...

Fairy ring beside Muddypond's wood, taken today, the day before Samhain  

This old collector's card from 1926 'Do you Know' Series 3 asks 'Do you know the cause of fairy rings?'. The answer is on the back ... "An old writer gives the following quaint explanation : the elves are fond of dancing in the meadows, where they form those circles of a livlier green known as Elf-dance. If any should at midnight get within their circle, the elves become visible to him,    and they may then illude (elude) him.
       Botanists tell us that when a group of fungi bears seeds or spores, and then dies and decays, young fungi spring up in a tiny ring round them.  As new fungi make their appearance, the ring gradually enlarges as the food material (decaying animal and vegetable matter) inside the ring is used up."

Vintage postcard by Sybil Barham with the lovely title
'You whose pastime is to make the midnight mushrooms' pub Faulkner 1878

 

Illustration by Katherine Wigglesworth from
Alison Uttley's 'Snug and Serena count to Twelve' pub Heineman 1959

 

 

Fairy Rings (part 1)

 

Softly in the gloaming

Flitting through the vale,

Faiy-folk are roaming

Over hill and dale.

 

Pixies in the hollow

Elves upon the height,

Let us follow, follow

Through the paling light.

 

Follow, all unbidden

To the grassy glade,

Wrapped around and hidden

In the forest shade.

 

 

Left:  Postcard - Hester Margetson 'Fairy Rings' pub Mansell 1934

Right:  from 'Kate Greenaway, sixteen examples in colour of the artist's work.' pub A & C Black  

 

 

Fairy Rings (part 2)

 

Hark the elfin tinkle

Of their little lutes,

Mark the golden twinkle

Of their fairy flutes.

 

See them dancing, dancing

While the silver moon

Tips their swiftly glancing

Little silver shoon.

 

Tripping, tripping lightly

Where their footprints fall,

Look! The grass is brightly

Growing green and tall.

 

Springing close, unbroken,

In a fairy ring,

For to-morrow's token

Of their frolicking!

 

 

Evaleen Stein

from 'Child Songs of Cheer' 1918

 

The 'Fairy Ring Vase' by Moorcroft

 

Fairy rings - made excusively by us magical faere folk are the source of much speculation and folk-lore. They are not - as is sometimes reported 'hag-rings' made by witches dancing!
No way - it's US what does them!! 

      

    All mortal beings know (I hope) that it is dangerous to enter a ring - and even moreso by moonlight! Some tales tell of kidnappings and folk who are never seen again - some tell that you are impelled to dance until you drop and then thrown from the circle in the dawn dew years later.

 

    W.Y Evans Wentz quotes a spoken source in his 'Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries' 1911 in the section 'Precautions against Fairies' as saying : 'I remember how an old woman pulled me out of a fairy ring to save me from being taken.'

How very wise that old woman must have been!

 

'Fairy Circle' by Walter Jenks Morgan c1900 

 

Vintage postcard by Hilda T Miller

 

 

 

NB:  As it's so nearly Samhain, or The Eve of All Hallows, you could be interested in the Ogham magic and folklore of the ancient but poisonous Yew Tree - here on Muddypond's main website.