Autumn's chill

Well, after the rain passed, it sure got cold. Really cold, like "see your breath" cold. And everywhere today there's the smell of woodsmoke.

I love that smell. It brings back memories, and it makes me think of long evenings with the family reading aloud or singing and making music together. It makes me think of punkins and jack o'lanterns and roasting turkey or venison and the dance at the high school gym for Harvest Home.

I'm sure most people know that the squashes -- of which the pumpkin is one -- are new-world plants. That is, they came from the Americas, from the Western Hemisphere. But did you know that there were jack o'lanterns long before Columbus (or even Leif Ericsson, or anyone else) "discovered" the new world?

It's true! Back before we were all "civilised", the fall festival symbolised the true "end of the year". Our ancestors watched the sky and the seasons to determine when to plant, when to harvest, when to gather stores for winter, and so on. They didn't have our sophisticated scientific equipment, and they didn't have the laws of physics set down in a text book somewhere, but they knew what they were doing. Toward the end of the moon-cycle that we now call October, the ancient people observed, and worked with, the changes in weather and the world.

Later, people began living in tribes and communities. We know about the long-barrow houses in the British Isles, and we know about the mead-hall communities of the Norse countries, and so on. And of course, any time people interact, they begin to ask themselves questions about the world around them and so on. These early people developed what we now call a "mythology" but is in fact a religion. The wanted explanations of why things happened, how they happened, and that sort of thing, so they looked for answers. Maybe we'd look at their questions and answers now and laugh, but then 10,000 years from now, maybe someone will look at us and laugh too!

Somewhere along the line, the final harvest for the locations north of the equator became associated with the death of the earth for the year, and then with the deaths of family and friends. Eventually, through time and intermingling, that final harvest became what we know as Halloween or Samhaine, and it's still celebrated by many people all over the world. Some people celebrate it as the night of all souls, or all saints, and some people celebrate it as a fire-festival. But regardless of the religious teaching behind it, the holiday has some very old traditions associated with it, which make it both holy and fun!

One of those traditions is the jack o'lantern, and one of the stories that goes with that, is this one. There are a LOT of stories about jack o'lanterns, and some of them mix a "devil" or other figures from non-pagan religions in with the stories. Almost every person will have a version of the story, and some of those versions are not fit for little kids because they're dark and scary and attempt to teach through fear instead of through love. But this is the story my great-grandmother told us:

A very long time ago when the world was younger and so were we, the Sidhe, that the English call the Faeries, decided to leave this land for the Other. But from time to time they visited here because they had kin and friends and clan here, and they loved them, so they came on the quarter days and cross days to make feast and tell stories and harp together.

But the Sidhe didn't want just any stranger walking into their feasting and singing, so they often gathered and gathered their friends, in the hidden places and it's said they would take revenge in a playful way on those who sought to disturb them.

Now about this time there lived a lad named Jock. Jock was the fairest lad you ever saw, he was tall and he was strong, and he had hair like an otter's pelt, and eyes like the leaves on the oak. But Jock had a fault. He was lazy, and would spend all manner of time avoiding work, if he could. Not for him ploughing and planting! Not for him harvest and thresh! Not for him anything but fun and the peaty taste of the whisky he brewed away up in the hills, and the dancing and the singing and the fun.

Jock's mother sighed and put her back into her work alone, and if any asked, she would always say, "Let the lad have his fun, soon enough he'll be an old one."

One year as evening fell on Samhaine, Jock decided he'd find a party of the Sidhe. After all, they were known for their dancing and singing and drinking and fun, so what better people to join for the night's feasting than they? But the moon was dark that night, and there were no stars to see, so Jock took a turnip and hollowed it out and hung it on a string, then put his candle inside it to protect it from the cold, cold wind of the night at year's end. Then he kissed his mother where she sat worn out from the week's work by her peat fire, and slammed the door as he went out into the night.

"Ah, me," his mother sighed. "Tis a shame and no mistake that my fine lad canna think of aught but his fun. He needs a lesson and that's sure!"

... And someone heard her!

Jock went out into the woods to an oak he knew, thinking surely, the Sidhe would hold their party there. Sure enough, as he approached, he heard singing and harping and laughter, but just as he got close enough to see the flash of jewels and the flicker of fire, all went dark, and the Sidhe vanished away!

Well, thought Jock, I know where a rowan grows. Surely there will be Sidhe feasting there! So holding his turnip-candle before him, Jock went through the woods to the rowan tree. Sure enough, as he approached, he heard singing and harping and laughter, but just as he got close enough to see the flash of jewels and the flicker of fire, all went dark, and the Sidhe vanished away!

Well, thought Jock, I know where a thorn tree grows. Surely there will be Sidhe feasting there! So holding his turnip-candle before him, Jock went through the woods to the thorn tree. Sure enough, as he approached, he heard singing and harping and laughter, but just as he got close enough to see the flash of jewels and the flicker of fire, all went dark, and a hand took his arm!

Jock struggled and twisted but even his strength was no match for the strength of the man who held him, and at last he gave over fighting and said, "Who are you? What do you want with me!"

And the Sidhe man said, "I am Aengus Og, and I want to know why three times you have disturbed my people and their friends at their feasting!"

"But I only wanted to join you," Jock protested.

"Join us, eh?" said Aengus Og, that is Fair Angus the way the English say it. "You can join us, right enough! Light your candle and you can join us, by leading us away to some place where we can feast in peace and undisturbed!"

So trembling, Jock lit his turnip-candle again, and all the Sidhe fell into procession behind him. Jock led them first to a clearing by a stream.

"Too damp!" cried the Sidhe. "Find a better place!"

So Jock led the procession, showing the way with his little turnip lantern on through the night, up on the high ben where the wind blew.

"Too windy!" cried the Sidhe. "Find a better place!"

So Jock, tired and weary, his teeth chattering in his head, led the procession, showing the way with his little turnip lantern on through the night, to a fine cave on the side of the mountain.

"Too dark!" cried the Sidhe. "Find a better place!"

So Jock, tired and weary, cold and hungry, led the procession, showing the way with his little turnip lantern, on through the night, and on, and on, and on, with each place he found not good enough, and all greeted with cries of "Find a better place!"

At last he had led them all over the land of his clan and his chief, and could find no place that met their approval. The candle burned down inside his turnip, and he was fainting from cold and weariness, and still the Sidhe were not satisfied with any place he showed them. Desperate now, Jock led the company to his mother's cottage and her little farm.

"This is the last place I ken!" he cried to the Sidhe, before they could say, Too wet, or Too cold, or Too windy, or Too dark, or anything else.

"This is the best place of all, Jock of the turnip lantern" said Aengus Og. "For this is your home and your hearth, and your mother waiting patiently for you. I hope you will remember this, Jock, and I hope you will stop your wanderings and roamings and help your mother. See what a fine cottage this is, see what fine fields you have, see what a strong cow you have -- and all through your mother's work, and none of your own!"

Jock trembled, because Aengus Og looked so stern and harsh, and Aengus went on. "You are always off to play and always off to dream. Instead of following a lantern all the night long, you should follow your mother and help her at her work. Every year now we will come to you here, and you will take your lantern and lead us here to your home and your mother, and we will bring meat and drink and feast here. And if you have worked hard and made your mother toil less, then every year we will give you a golden coin for each cycle of the moon, when you have led us to our feast." Then Aengus frowned, and if he was bonny when he smiled, he was terrible when he did not. "And if you have not helped your mother, and minded your manners and done your chores, then you will lead us all the night long, with never a bite or a sup, as you have done tonight!"

"I will," Jock promised. "I will that, I will help my mother, I will guide your procession!"

And then Jock's mother brought out food and drink and her own harp from the corner, and the Sidhe made merry for the night.

And Jock became a good man, who held house well and worked his mother's fields, and tended his mother's cow. He cut the peat when he should, instead of roaming off up the mountain. He brought fish for the table instead of dreaming over his hook all day.

And every year, on Samhaine, he led the Sidhe around the village and into his mother's house, and every year they feasted and gave blessing on Jock and his mother. And every year, the people of his village could see him go by, with his turnip lantern bobbing and flickering, as he led the Sidhe to their feasting place.