August | 2014 | Hag o' The Hills

Scotland Yet

Gae bring my guid auld harp aince mair;

Gae bring it free and fast,
For I maun sing anither sang
Ere a’ my glee be past:
And trow ye as I sing my lads,
The burthen o’t shall be –
Auld Scotland’s howes and Scotland’s knowes,
And Scotland’s hills for me!
I’ll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi a’ the honours three!

The heath waves wild upon her hills,
Her foaming frae the fells,
Her fountains sing o’ freedom still,
As they dance down the dells.
And weel I loe the land, my lads,
That’s girded by the sea.
Then Scotland’s vales, and Scotland’s dales,
And Scotland’s hills for me;
I’ll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi a’ the honours three!

The thistle wags upon the fields
Where Wallace bore his blade,
That her foeman’s dearest build
To dye her auld grey plaid:
And looking to the lift my lads,
He sang in doughty glee –
“Auld Scotland’s right, and Scotland’s might,
And Scotland’s hills for me;”
I’ll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi’ a’ the honours three!

They tell o’ lands wi’ brighter skies,
Where freedom’s voices ne’re rang;
Gie me the hills where Ossian lies,
And Coila’s minstrel sang,
That ken na to be free.
Then Scotland’s right, and Scotland’s might,
And Scotland’s hills for me;”
I’ll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi’ a’ the honours three!

Henry Scott Riddell (1798-1870)

“The Little Witch” from Elves & Fairies by Ida Rentoul Outhwaite (1916)

I’m not a big fan of summer time, mostly because I get really tired and irritable in hot weather and I’m pasty white and burn easily. I need a constant cool breeze with my sunshine and a glass of Malibu and lemonade to go along with that thank you.

Scotland is known by most to be a dreich country, but we do get some lovely summer weather too. This season we’ve had an abundance of sunshine and a lack of rainfall but I know that’s all about to change when Autumn rolls in. The air will become crisp, there will be a scent of spice and wood smoke on the breeze, green will turn to russet, gold and copper. Then will come the early morning and evening mists and I will feel the sense of anticipation and excitement I usually do in the autumn, when you feel on the cusp of a new adventure, a new story about to unfold.

It will soon be time to go foraging, and there is a lovely crop of brambles beginning to ripen, the rowan trees becoming swollen with berries,the crab apples hanging off the boughs along with the deep purple jewels of elderberries waiting to be picked. I will be up to my elbows in jams and chutneys *happy sigh*

Myself and a few friends met up early to celebrate Lughnasadh, Some folk wait till the 1st Aug, some wait until the right astrological sign and others feel their way along with the seasons and by observing the signs of nature they decide when Lughnasadh is right for celebrating. We met up early because it was convenient for us to do so. Witches are nothing if not practical at times.

We walked up a nearby hill and heard a buzzard’s cry as it flew above, and saw a red squirrel scurry up a tree. I love those little guys, they’re so adorable and I’m happy to see them thriving there. We walked through the trees till we found a nice little spot to celebrate, with enough shelter so passers by wouldn’t see us.

For me the ritual was as much about the death of summer as well as the welcoming of autumn and we celebrated in an old cemetery none the less. We first lay down offerings to the spirits of the land we stood upon, we made it known that we meant no harm or offence. Then we called upon our ancestors to be with us and bear witness. We honoured the spirit of the grain and named him John Barleycorn, we acknowledged his sacrifice when the grain was cut down, and in turn acknowledged the sacrifices we too have made and will make in our own lives in the days to come.

I cast aside any self doubt, I sacrificed that part of me in the burning cauldron we encircled. I sacrificed my creative apathy, to encourage me to write more of the wonderful ideas I’d been having but for some reason could not muster up the drive to put down in writing. That will all change. The fire purifies and the fire destroys as it hungrily ate what fuel we gave it, the flames licking heavenward.

Then we acknowledged our new goals for the future, we wrote these on paper, and some committed these to the cauldron fire to help manifest their goals. I kept mine intact, so I could look at it each day and remind myself of my goals and dreams. Some goals are long term and they need to be carefully tended and lovingly nourished, a bit like growing a crop for next year’s harvest. Next Lughnasadh I will review my list and check what I have reaped, which goals survived the year and which ones fell to rot and that will tell me a lot about myself and what I’m willing to truly work hard for.

For guidance for the coming month we each pulled a rune stone from the bag, asking our ancestors to guide us, and I pulled out hagalaz. Not my favourite rune, I tend to associate it with crisis, destruction and difficult times ahead. Destruction isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Some things need to be destroyed to make way for the new, and it’s fitting as it will help me break out of my creative apathy and get the drive to get things done.

The ritual came to an end, and the fire was extinguished and we laughed and chatted on the way back to my place where we feasted and laughed and chatted some more. There may have been some cackling involved too.

May your harvests be full of abundance and prosperity.