It's Lughnasadh and....

.....guess what I was doing 40 years ago today?

DH and I were married in the little country church of St Thomas, Henbury in Cheshire on August 1st 1972. It was a lovely day (in all senses of the word) apart from a thunderstorm during the reception. We were indoors by then so it didn't matter:)

My two bridesmaids, Lesley in pink and Sandi in blue.

Lughnasadh is the festival that celebrates the beginning of the harvest season, from now on the crops of grain and fruit will be gathered in and stored against the long dark days of winter. It was always a time of fairs, markets and in ancient times there were great sporting contests held in honour of the god Lugh. We certainly have the sporting contests going on at present and I shall be spending the day at Bakewell Agricultural Show which is pretty appropriate as well.
I leave you with the old folk song of John Barleycorn which describes the life, death and resurrection of the grain.It tells the story of John Barleycorn, who was killed, buried, sprang up in the spring, grew stronger in the summer and grew weaker in the autumn. The barley harvest was the source of not only bread but also beer which was what everyone, including children, drank until quite recent times. During the brewing of beer the water is boiled and therefore sterilized making it safe to drink - more than could be said for most of the water that was available!

John Barleycorn

There were three men came out of the west,
Their fortunes for to try,
And these three men made a solemn vow,
John Barleycorn must die.
They've ploughed, they've sowed, they've harrowed him in,
Throwed clods upon his head,
And these three men made a solemn vow,
John Barleycorn is dead.

They've let him lie for a long, long time
Till the rain from heaven did fall,
Then little Sir John popped up his head,
And soon amazed them all.
They've let him stand till midsummer day
when he looked both pale and wan,
And little Sir John's grown a long, long beard
And so become a man.

They've hired men with the scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the knee,
They rolled him and tied him by the waist,
And served him most barbarously.
They've hired men with the sharp pitchforks
Who pricked him to the heart,
And the loader he served him worse than that,
For he bound him to the cart.

They've wheeled him round and round the field
Till they came unto a barn,
And there they've made a solemn mow
of poor John Barleycorn.
They've hired men with the crab-tree sticks
To cut him skin from bone,
And the miller he's served him worse than that,
For he's ground him between two stones.

Now, here's little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl,
And brandy in a glass;
And little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
Proves the strongest man at last.
For the huntsman he can't hunt the fox,
Nor so loudly blow his horn,
And the tinker he can't mend kettles nor pots
Without a little Barleycorn.

The 'crab-tree sticks' are the flails used to thresh the grain and the 'nut brown bowl' is the wooden drinking vessel that would have been used by ordinary people in times gone by. Glass drinking vessels were expensive and would be used only by the wealthy. Happy Lughnasadh!