A little fireside chat with Mr Jim, who has some good news about his battles with lung cancer
Showing posts with label autumn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label autumn. Show all posts
Tuesday, 2 September 2025
Monday, 23 September 2024
MICROGORIA 124 - Eight for Silver
A quick spoiler-free review of the 2021 movie Eight for Silver AKA The Cursed which leaves Netflix next week. Hear why you should catch this fantastically autumnal folk horror tale while you can!
Sunday, 22 September 2024
FROM THE GREAT LIBRARY OF DREAMS 117 - Dickon the Devil by Sheridan le Fanu
A tale by the man considered by none other than MR James to be the master of the ghost story - Sheridan le Fanu. In this autumnal story, we discover a rural Lancashire yarn that is more than a legend...
Sunday, 15 September 2024
MICROGORIA 123 - Autumn Chitchat
A little fireside chat featuring a few bits of news and some talk about the changing seasons
As pictured above and mentioned in the show - Robina Candles
Saturday, 7 September 2024
Friday, 6 September 2024
Thursday, 5 September 2024
THE TURN OF THE SEASON III
Bursting from hedgerows,Sweet gifts among the thorns fromThe ripening year
Wednesday, 4 September 2024
THE TURN OF THE SEASON II
Sunlight's last dances onLeaves soon to tumble intoAutumn's bronze and gold
Tuesday, 3 September 2024
Monday, 24 October 2022
FROM THE GREAT LIBRARY OF DREAMS 063 - The Floor Above by M Humphreys
A tale of autumnal terror that was a favourite of HP Lovecraft. Appearing in Weird Tales in 1923, this is an eerie story of a long-lost friend refound...
DIRECT DOWNLOAD - The Floor Above by M Humphreys
Find all the podcasts in the HYPNOGORIA family here plus more articles on the weird and wonderful here-
Thursday, 29 October 2020
FROM THE GREAT LIBRARY OF DREAMS 021 - The Sweeper by AM Burrage
In this episode we have a suitably autumnal tale, chosen by Mr Matt Cowan of horrordelve - a classic ghostly tale for Halloween - The Sweeper by AM Burrage
Find all the episodes From the Great Library of Dreams Podcast here -
On RadioPublic
More more great podcasts and articles visit Hypnogoria.com
More more great podcasts and articles visit Hypnogoria.com
Thursday, 31 October 2019
THE OCTOBER GAME by Ray Bradbury
Find all the podcasts in the HYPNOGORIA family here -
HYPNOGORIA HOME DOMAIN - Full archive, RSS feed and other useful links
Thursday, 9 November 2017
FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Martinmas
The 11th of November is of course Armistice Day or Remembrance Day, an annual commemoration of the day the First World War came to an end, at 11 AM on the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918. Poppies are sold, services held, and a two minute silence at 11 o'clock is observed. However before the horrors of the Great War, the 11th of November had long been a special date in European calendars. For now what we now think of as Armistice Day falls upon the date of a forgotten feast, St. Martin's Day or Martinmas.
Thought to have been born on the 8th of November around 315 AD, Martin of Tours was a Roman soldier who converted to Christianity. When he refused to fight, he was imprisoned for a time, and in the end left the Roman legions to preach across Europe and establish a hermitage. Martin was so devout that it was thought he would be an excellent bishop. Martin himself however was less than keen on the idea - as a man of sincere faith, he loved the contemplative life. Hence he had to be tricked into coming to the city of Tours with the claim a sick friend needed his ministrations, to be invested as a bishop. When Martin discovered the deception, he responded with some duplicity of his own and tried to dodge this promotion into the church hierarchy by hiding in a barn full of geese. But when the Church authorities came to take Martin to the cathedral to be made a bishop, the geese honked so loudly that Martin was quickly discovered
As it was, Martin did indeed make a very good bishop, although it is said he founded a monastery at Marmoutier in order to have somewhere to withdraw to and continue his worship in the humble and quiet contemplative manner he prefered. After his death on the 8th November 387 AD, he was venerated for his good works, and legends grew up around him, with the usual crop of miracles such as having visions of Christ, healing the sick and raising the Devil being attributed to him. The most famous tale about him related how he sliced his cloak in two to give half to a poor beggar man. Later Martin had a dream in which it was revealed that the beggar had been Christ himself and thus began Martin's life of piety and devotion. Hence he became St. Martin and his feast day was set as the 11th of November, a couple of days after his death date. From the late 4th century into the Middle Ages, St. Martin's Day was widely celebrated across Europe, with great feasts being held on Martinmas Eve (10th of November) and the traditional dish was roast goose, which according to legend was a commemoration of the noisy birds that foiled Martin's attempt to dodge bishophood.
Now St. Martin's Day was a time for merrymaking and feasting for good reason. For on the 12th of November began what the medieval church called Quadragesima Sancti Martini - the Forty Days of St. Martin - a time of fasting and spiritual preparations for Christmas. So naturally folks wanted to ensure they had a good feast and made merry before this period of devotion and self denial. And there were practical reasons underlying this too - for Martinmas coincided with the last harvests, and it made good sense to consume what may be perishable at this time. Animals were butchered and their meats was salted to provide food later in the winter, and for several centuries salted meat from cattle killed in these harvests was referred to as Martlemas beef. These forty days of fasting and contemplation that followed St. Martin's Day are also the origin of what we now call Advent.
As is common with saint's days, there were a wide variety of different traditions to celebrate the date across Europe. In Flanders, children received presents on this day rather than the more usual St Nicholas's Day (6th December). While in Germany, Martinmas was marked with parades of paper lanterns. Indeed, this delightful tradition still continues to this day and in recent years has enjoyed something of a revival, and has started to become more popular. In England, after our switching of calendars and the infamous loss of eleven days, Martinmas became known as Old Hallowtide or Old Hallowe'en. Much like Michaelmas, Martinmas was also a time for hiring fairs where folks could secure employment for the coming year.
Also like Michaelmas, there were some folk traditions with the weather of St Martin's Day. It was claimed that whatever the weather was like on St. Martin's Day, the opposite would hold true for Christmas. Therefore, if it was cold and icy at Martinmas, it would be mild by Yuletide, whereas if it were pleasant on St Martin's Day, there would be a white Christmas. Appropriately enough, the birds most closely associated with St. Martin are remembered in one folk saying that outlines this tradition of weather forecasting - "If the geese at Martin’s Day stand on ice, they will walk in mud at Christmas". However two better known rhymes replace geese with other waterfowl -
"If ducks do slide at Martinmas
At Christmas they will swim;
If ducks do swim at Martinmas
At Christmas they will slide"
"Ice before Martinmas,
Enough to bear a duck.
The rest of winter,
Is sure to be but muck!"
Of course whether there is any truth in this is hard to say. But certainly cold snaps in November that seem to promise a white Christmas are in my experience often misleading. Perhaps we should start making a note of the weather on St. Martin's Day and discover whether there is any merit in this old folk method of forecasting Christmas weather!
Thursday, 15 September 2016
FOLKLORE FLASHBACK #6 - Autumn Harvest
Welcome gentle reader to another roundup of older posts and jottings from the archives of Folklore on Friday. Now although the temperature is warm, the nights are arriving a sooner, and as I write I can see the first patches of yellow and amber dappling the treetops and there's a hint of woodsmoke in the air.
Yes, autumn is coming, that season of mists and mellow fruitfulness as Mr Keats so memorably put it. So then, I present for you a little trio of scribblings of on Autumnal lore...
First up we learn of folklore of falling leaves -
http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/folklore-on-friday-autumn-leaves.html
Next we learn the ancient rules on when it's safe to pick blackberries -
http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/folklore-on-friday-devils-blackberries.html
And finally we hear of a neglect Autumnal holiday, the forgotten feast of Michaelmas -
http://hypnogoria.blogspot.co.uk/2015/09/folklore-on-friday-forgotten-feast.html
Friday, 2 October 2015
FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - Autumn Leaves
In 1939, noted poet Louis MacNeice wrote a long work entitled Autumn Journal, a snap shot in verse of life in London on the eve of the Second World War. MacNeice's poetry very much reflected the times he lived in, as Philip Larkin put it "his was the poetry of our everyday life, of shop-windows, traffic policemen, ice-cream soda, lawn-mowers, and an uneasy awareness of what the news-boys were shouting". However a few particular lines have often puzzled readers -
The plane-tree leaves come sidling down
(Catch my guineas, catch my guineas)
And the sun caresses Camden Town,
The barrels of oranges and apples.
Autumn Journal by Louis MacNeice
Many have thought that the odd refrain of "Catch my guineas, catch my guineas" is perhaps meant to echo of an old nursery rhyme, just as the following lines about oranges and apples recall "Oranges and lemons say the bells of St Clements". However, while it does allude to a very old source, we must look a little further than the nursery for its inspiration.
While these lines don't appear to be an allusion to any older traditional rhyme or verse, it would seem to be an allusion to a widespread folk belief about falling leaves, and one that many generations of children have been familiar with. In Copsford (1952), author WJC Murray recalled that -
As a small boy I had whimsically been taught that there was a magic in a falling leaf if you caught it before it touched the ground
Now this is somewhat vague, but undoubtedly it does make for a fun game in a sunny autumn afternoon. Delving into the annals of folklore, I discovered that in Cheshire it was said that to catch a falling leaf before it hit the ground on Halloween night entitled the catcher to make a wish. However there are many other versions of this little piece of autumnal lore. Most commonly, in many areas, it is simply considered lucky to catch a falling autumn leaf, and certainly this was the version that I was familiar with as a child growing up in the 1970s in the North of England. It is therefore not a huge leap of logic to suggest that Mr MacNeice's refrain recalls a similar tradition, in which it was said that to catch a falling leaf would ensure money and good fortune, and seemingly recalls a forgotten chant that accompanied the leaf catching.
In 1878, the Folklore Society was founded to study such matters, and indeed to preserve these kinds of traditions, songs and rhymes. And in their first year of operations their official journal records the common folk belief that -
If you catch a falling leaf, you will have twelve months of the happiness
from Folk-Lore Record (1878)
But not all versions of this tradition were as quite as generous. It was said in Northampton, as late as the 1980s, that if you catch twelve falling leaves during the autumn, you'll have a happy year; presumably each leaf caught ensures one month of good fortune. However childrens' author Alison Uttley, in her memoir A Year in the Country (1957), recalls a more exacting version -
We try to catch a dancing leaf, for every leaf caught is a 'happy day', but how elusive they are, these fluttering alive things, which slip through the fingers and evade pursuit!
Now these variations in number perhaps are the result of this superstition spawning a game for children, with the increased goals making this autumnal activity something more of a challenge. In the 1950s, folklorist Iona Opie conducted a nationwide survey on superstitions, and a Welsh schoolboy in Bucknell, Radnorshire informed her that one needed to catch a whopping 365 falling leaves to ensure a lucky year - one can almost hear his breathless excitement at undertaking such a challenge!
However the catching of falling leaves had other variations, and what's more were popular with grown-ups too. In The Encyclopedia of Superstitions (1949), Edwin Radford reports -
The peculiar belief mentioned in the first of the above superstitions was forcibly brought to the mind of the author one day in Hyde Park, London, in the autumn of 1946. A man and woman pretty well advanced in years stood looking up at an oak tree from which leaves were being blown by the wind. After making several attempts to catch a leaf, they at last managed to do so, the man first and the lady subsequently. They then walked away, apparently satisfied with the game.
A question to them elicited the fact that they expected to be free from colds in the head by reason of their performance. The author quoted to them the superstition in which they apparently believed. To this and a further question they announced that they were country bred, from the shires, and that since coming to London more than 20 years ago they had regularly caught falling leaves in the autumn. 'And we've never had a cold yet,' they concluded.
Whether there is any truth to this I do not know, but certainly the exercise involved in the task of catching those tricksy falling leaves certainly will help in warding off the coughs and colds of winter!
Friday, 25 September 2015
FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - A Forgotten Feast
When the leaves start changing and the nights begin to draw in, we know that Autumn is here. However in centuries past, the turning of the wheel of the seasons was more definitely marked in the calendar. Roughly coinciding with the solstices and equinoxes were four quarter days that heralded the beginning of each season, and for Autumn that day was Michaelmas. As may be deduced from its name, this was the feast day of St. Michael, one of the archangels, and the Lord's champion who led the heavenly host against Lucifer's rebellion. In some branches of Christian lore, Michaelmas was actually thought to be the date of that celestial battle - indeed last year, we looked at this legend and its connection to blackberries. And it is commonly thought that it was St. Michael's reputation as the champion of light that inspired the early church to set his feast day at a time of the year when the nights were going to be growing longer.
However there is a wealth of lore and tradition centred around Michaelmas that does not relate to that great war between the powers of Light and Darkness. Once upon a time, Michaelmas was a very important time of the year and was marked by many festivities, and thus it was for centuries. In fact, its decline only came in the 19th century, when there was a seismic shift from an agricultural to an industrial society. And now in the 21st century, it is only largely remembered as an odd name occurring in some official calendars - for example, many old schools and universities still refer to the first term of the academic year as the Michaelmas term.
Now over the years many of you may have wondered why the school year begins in September, and the reason for this is tied to the forgotten festival of Michaelmas. For the school year was modelled upon the university system, and to this day most university courses still begin at the close of September, usually literally just after Michaelmas. This in turn is derived from the church calendar (for the Church ran the first colleges and schools), and the academic year was chosen to begin then as Michaelmas marked the date of the last harvest. Now in ages past, harvest was a most crucial time of the year: food had to be gathered in for the winter and the task of ensuring that all the crops were harvested, fruits and berries gathered, and livestock slaughtered, required everyone to muck in. Hence at harvest time, communities needed all its young folks helping out, not sequestered in dusty classrooms. So then the academic year was set to begin after these vital tasks had been accomplished.
In a similar fashion, Michaelmas also saw the holding of what were called mop fairs. As the harvests were the end of the agricultural year, it was therefore now that contracts were renewed and that farms and estates looked for new employees. Therefore great fairs were held, often as part of the harvest festivities, where folks could tout for jobs. And the traditional way of doing so was to wander through the fair carrying something that signified your skills and profession; for example, shepherds would carry crooks, cowmen wisps of straw, and house maids would carry a mop. And hence, according to some, these gatherings were named 'mop fairs'. Although alternatively, some claim the name derives from tasseled tokens worn to signify different employers.
It was also the traditional day for elections, where communities would appoint public officials and leaders to guide them through the winter, with mayoral elections traditionally being held at this time in many places. Like the other quarter days, Michaelmas was also a date when tithes, taxes and rents were due. And this is tied to a once very well-known but now largely forgotten superstition. For centuries it was said that -
He who eats goose on Michaelmas day;Even at the dawn of the 18th century, the belief was already so old that its origins had become obscure, as demonstrated by a query to the British Apollo on 22nd of October 1708 -
Shan’t money lack or debts pay
Pray tell me whence the custom'd proverb did commence, that who eats goose on Michael's day, shan't money lack his debts to pay?
Now firstly, there are a host of connections between geese and Michaelmas. In Shropshire for example, the shearing of the last portion of grain of the harvest was referred to as "cutting the ganders neck", while in other parts of the country Michaelmas is known as "Goose Day", with some places have celebrations known as "goose fairs". However a clue to the answer to the query above is to be found in an old Elizabethan text, in a poem by George Gascoigne written in 1575. In a verse about the quarter day feasts, Gascoigne wrote -
And when the tenants come to pay their quarter's rent,
They bring some fowl at Midsummer, a dish of fish in Lent,
At Christmas a capon, at Michaelmas a goose,
And somewhat else at New-year's tide, for fear their lease fly loose
Now the eating of goose at Michaelmas was more than a mere tradition; again it actually relates to the agricultural year. For after the crops had been harvested, geese were allowed to feed on the stubble. Therefore by Michaelmas the geese were as fat and well-fed as they were going to be that year, and so it was the perfect time to either sell or slaughter them. And therefore the goose fairs came into being, and the bird became the main course at Michaelmas feasts. Now going back to the paying of tithes and rents, in ages past it was a common practice to settle debts with goods, and therefore at Michaelmas a goose would often be offered as part of the payment.
Now as to the origin of that old proverb, we may speculate that if you were tucking into a goose on Michaelmas Day, you were one of several groups. You might be a well-off fellow who had just had his rents or debts paid up in full, and now probably had many new geese. Alternatively you could be someone who had paid up whatever was they owed, but still had enough to acquire a big roasting bird for your own table. Thirdly, you may have been a farmer who'd had a good harvest and had plenty of livestock for the winter. Further down the social scale, you may have been been fortunate in the local mop fair, and traditionally, employers sealed the deal with the payment of a shilling. And in some cases, at some times in history they would even pay your wages for the coming year in a lump sum. Therefore securing employment at the mop fair would normally mean you would be eating well on Michaelmas Day. In short then, if you had the cash for a goose on Michaelmas, that generally meant the coming year looked rosy.
Being tied to the harvest and the close of the agricultural year, for many folks Michaelmas was the real end of the working year. And hence in the British Isles, and in many parts of Europe, the bounty of the harvest was celebrated with feasts. While it has been forgotten now, a sign that the Michaelmas feast was an important part of calendar in ages past is evidenced by the superstitions and customs that grew up around it, many of which echo several of our Christmas feast traditions.
For example, in Ireland, special sweet pies were baked for Michaelmas, and it was traditional to hide a ring in one. To find a ring in one's Michaelmas pie was a sign of good fortune, much like getting the sixpence in a Christmas pudding. However thanks to the association between marriage and rings, to find a ring in your Michaelmas pie was a sign you would be wed in the coming year. And there was another echo of a Christmas superstition, the snapping of the turkey's wish-bone, found with the Michaelmas goose. It was said that if the bones of the cooked bird were brown, the coming winter would be mild. However white bones prophesied much snow and frost. And in Yorkshire, the condition of the meat itself held similar divinatory properties -
If the goose breast at Michaelmas be dour and dull
We'll have a sour winter, from the start to the full
However despite once being a popular and important part of the calendar, the Industrial Revolution was to kill off the celebrations of Michaelmas. As factory work and urban life increasingly became the lot of the common folk, the old agricultural year and its traditions became less important. But while goose fairs and mop fairs still survive to this day, and Michaelmas still haunts academic and legal calendars, the great feasts and festivities at the end of September are now forgotten. However it is a tradition that perhaps should be revived, for as the nights draw in and the days grow colder, what better time to gather family and friends for a slap-up roast dinner?
Friday, 3 October 2014
FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY : The Devil's Blackberries!
Once again autumn is here, and in the old medieval calendar the start of the new season was marked by one of the four quarter days - Michaelmas. Also known the Feast of All Angels and the Feast of the Archangels, Michaelmas falls upon the 29th of September, close to the Autumn equinox. In Christian legend, this was the date that the Heavenly Host triumphed against Lucifer and the rebel angels, with St. Michael defeating the Devil and casting him out of Heaven (as envisioned above by Albrecht Dürer).
However according old legends found in the British Isles, when the Devil was flung from Heaven, the Dark Lord fell to earth and landed, somewhat painfully in a blackberry bush. His Satanic Majesty was obviously not best pleased, and spat and trampled upon the errant bushes. As an old Irish proverb sums it up - “On Michaelmas Day the devil puts his foot on blackberries”! However Old Nick was so enraged he also laid an everlasting curse upon them, and hence it was said that after Michaelmas Day, any blackberries on the bushes now belonged to the Devil Himself and it was most unwise to pick them.
As colourful and fantastic this old tale is, there is a certain wisdom buried within it. For by the end of September any remaining blackberries may well have felt the touch of a first frost, or be spoilt by worms and larvae that feed upon them. However for those who would heed the legend's warning, this legend predates the re-organisation of the calendar in England, when thanks to the Calendar (New Style) Act of 1750 we adopted the corrected Gregorian calendar. Famously this saw the English "losing" eleven days, something that didn't sit right with many folks. And therefore several festivals and notable dates were still celebrated under the old system - hence on October 10th, some parts of England celebrated what was now called Old Michaelmas. And so if you go with the adjusted date of the Old Michaelmas, you can get a week and half extra of Devil-free blackberry picking!
Monday, 27 September 2010
HYPNOBOBS 06 - Autumn Ramblings
As the nights are drawing in and the leaves begin to fall, Mr Jim is in an autumnal mood and has been searching his myriad shelves for suitably seasonal poetry...
DIRECT DOWNLOAD - HYPNOBOBS 06 - Autumnal Ramblings
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