Of Harvest and Hedgerow

“Blackberries”, pencil on paper

The arrival of the Autumn equinox in September means that the nights are now longer than the days, there is a chill in the air and the fruits are ripe and ready in the hedgerows and trees. Many of us may be feeling apprehensive about the winter to come (I know I am) but this month’s newsletter explores some autumn folklore to distract the mind and warm the heart. 

Folklore of the hedgerow

As I was gathering blackberries from the hedges a few weeks ago I wondered about the folklore and traditions connected to hedgerows. Our modern relationship with hedgerows is largely positive with the popularity of foraging growing as people strive to reconnect with nature and the past. However I was surprised to find that hedgerows were often feared in the past as they symbolised boundaries between the safe, ordered fields and the wild world beyond. The word Hag even derives from hedge as witches were believed to be able to traverse the hedges and move between the wild and the civilised world.

Blackberries are a common hedgerow sight but make sure not to pick them after Michaelmas day (29th september in the modern calendar or 10th October in the old calendar ) because the devil is supposed to spit on them. This is quite sensible as there are scientific reasons for blackberries being more likely to make you sick or simply taste bad by October. 

Blackthorn represents the dark side of the year (as opposed to hawthorn which represents the light or the maiden) in Irish folklore. Rowan, another common hedgerow tree is said to protect against witches. At this time of year Elderberries are ripe and commonly found in hedgerows but the wood was believed to be bad luck. A cradle made of Elder wood could cause a child to become sick. Fans of Harry Potter might remember the wizarding adage “wand of elder, never prosper”. J K Rowling researched British folk beliefs and magic for the series and many references such as this can be found in the texts. 

All of these plants should be treated with the utmost respect according to British and Irish folklore and would be cut down at your peril. An Oxfordshire tale, recorded by the controversial Ruth Tongue, told of a farmer who cut down a Blackthorn tree on his land and had his house burned to the ground. So be careful what you pull up when you are doing the weeding and make sure you check your calendar before you go blackberrying as I hear devil spit doesn’t taste very nice. 

Harvest folklore

Harvest was such an important time in the calendar that a whole host of traditions and superstitions have, unsurprisingly, risen up around it. 

At the end of the Harvest the last sheaf of corn was always saved as it was believed to contain the corn spirit. This is similar to leaving the last apple on the apple tree (which was more of an offering to nature itself) but the corn was kept and often woven into a corn dollie or just kept as good luck. Often the seeds of the last sheaf were scattered onto the fields in spring, returning the corn spirit back to the fields. Many examples of corn dollies still exist and are an artform in their own right. These are just some of many traditions surrounding the harvest and the farming year.

I find it interesting that we still celebrate the harvest festival when so many other traditional festivals have slipped into obscurity and connection with farming and the land has dwindled for those of us who dwell in towns and cities. Novelist Melissa Harrison says that it is “due to one most powerful effect of folk traditions: that of binding people together in common practice, forming bonds and creating shared memories”.  

So gather with your loved ones, tell stories, grow and gather food to cook together (it saves energy).  Listen for the honking of geese, watch for redwing and fieldfare returning from their summer breeding grounds (but hope that the fieldfare doesn’t arrive too early as this can be a sign of a hard winter). Remember the Eels making their final transformation and beginning their journey back to the Sargasso sea to breed and die. We are all part of the relentless turning of the wheel of the year and there is always some comfort in that.