The Artist Ithell Colquhoun, Wine and Symbolism in the Painting Song of Soloman

The Artist Ithell Colquhoun, Wine and Symbolism in the Painting Song of Soloman

Margret Ithell Colquhoun was born in Shillong Eastern Bengal in 1906 and died in Cornwall England in 1988. She was an artist, poet, author and occultist. She has been closely associated with the Surrealist movement and was at one time part of The British Surrealist Movement. (Ithell Colquhoun 2022). However, the Belgian artist E.L.T Messens leader of this movement feared the dispersal of the group following the outbreak of the Second World War and a meeting of members and outlined certain rules and regulations that members must adhere to. These included the banning of any association with proletariat revolution or membership of secret societies. This divisive moment for the group would culminate in the departure of Ithell amongst others. (Ferentinou, 2011). The Painting Song of Soloman was completed several years after this break took place.

In general, her painting her paintings are often of a spiritual nature and the surrealist movement that she broke away from was a major influence. At her most figurative she does not shy away from any intimacy and often offers her male nudes in an unflattering and flaccid light. Her representations of the female figure are always more flattering, and she often puts women in positions of power and dominance. Art historians have argued that she sought to rebalance the male dominated and masculine centric world of the surrealists. Her occultic interest in alchemy drove her to create her own symbols and meanings and over time narratives emerged. However real reading or meaning was personal to Ithell and ours is subjective and helped with understanding of alchemy. For instance, her desire to represent a post gender being aligned with both male and female aspects and yet transcending both is in accord with ancient teachings and evolves with increasing strength from her earlier works up to her later offerings. The idea of the individual and therefore gender being incomplete and the ideal being a state of conjoined intersex or a nonbinary ambiguity. The self always being completed by the opposite. One this transformation and transcendence occurs the individual has a deeper understanding of the universe and a greater awareness of the nature of existence viewed from opposite spectrum perceptions at the same time. Song of Soloman was painted in the late 1930’s when this notion was yet to fully emerge as it would do in a much more pronounced form in her later work. The couple in the painting hint at this ambiguity but fall short of immersing fully into it. Are they loving or fighting? Have they just made love or have they just fought. She has her shoes on, ready to leave or in a rush of passion neglected to remove them. Beside them a tray of fruit and a jug of wine is neglected and caught in still life form which contrasts with the writhing couple. Here is the essence of the line from the Bible and from the poem Song of Soloman that the painting takes its inspiration

‘Let him Kiss me with the kisses of the mouth, for your love is better than wine’

The poem is an exception in Biblical terms in that it explicitly alludes to the erotic pleasures of sensualness and abandon. It is a chapter that has provoked much conversation and its influence can even be witnessed in contemporary pop culture and has indeed been with songs by Stephen Tin Tin Duffy and Kate Bush taking inspiration from the lines. Wine is mentioned but as a secondary theme to more sexual acts. In Alchemy wine has deeply symbolic meaning dating back as far as medieval times when it was valued for its ability to transform directly into blood within the human body and the word blood was often used to describe wine and indeed recipes containing ‘blood of the grape’ were seen as powerful medicines. (Dixon ,1982). But here this medicine is no longer needed as the kisses suggest something much more powerful than medicine or mere intoxication.

In spiritual terms Colquhoun chose many paths of discovery and at one time or another she investigated and was involved with many esoteric orders. Her most recent biographer Amy Hale describes her as Perennialist which is a philosophy that emerged from the Rennaissance suggesting that all great spiritual paths seek the same universal wisdom. She goes on to point out that Ithel may always have held on to some fundamental essence of the Christianity she was born into, and themes of Christ and the Bible are often delt with in her paintings. (Hale, 2020). The obvious transformative nature and symbolism of wine within the Christian tradition and the miracle of Christs transforming water into wine as well as the repeated miracle in the mass of wine into blood. These ideas were present in her art and the everyday mysteries of Christian practice are alluded to here and in many of her other works.

In the painting the wine has been cast to one side as the main event is very much the couple actions. Perhaps a discarded picnic that may be returned to. And much like Ithell's adhering to the core of her Christian beliefs or fundamentally incorporating facets of them into her work its representation and its symbolic reference to transformation is pivotal to the reading and meaning of this artwork. In other words, wine is not the main event, but its presence is crucial to the overall occult and hidden meanings she conjures up. Transformation is the central theme and one of the main themes she returns to repeatedly in her art. Ithel Colquhoun always the outsider always on the margins but able to grapple with and grasp major themes and to project meaning and universality into her work whose symbols evoke though conjured from many paths. Wine is not a recurring theme in her art but its presence here is suggestive of many things for the artist and the viewer. The 1930’s brought much change to her life and would be the beginning of paths she would continue on for much of the rest of her life. Her real artistic muscles had yet to be flexed but the seeds are very much sown. Her desire for knowledge and learning of the many facets of the occult and spirituality gave her many insights into symbols and their meaning. But like any advanced practitioner of magic the symbols become imbued with the persons own meaning and lexicon of beliefs. In later years Ithell would go on to produce her own tarot deck with all arcana represented not in a figurative manner but instead by swirls of colour. This creates an interesting intersection of interpretation of the personal the universal and an exchange then between the interpreter and the interpreted.

Wine is traditionally seen as a symbol of transformation and in alchemical terms transformation is the constant act of renewal, the integration of which is the ultimate goal. The stone becomes the philosophers stone, lead becomes gold, the massa confusa becomes the elixir of life. (na. 2012). Carl Jung stated that the alchemical processes could be viewed by the contemporary individual as the process of personal change which brings us into greater understanding of our true selves. Our personal and relevant symbols be they present consciously or unconsciously should be acknowledged if we are to be enlightened and to grow. Wine as a symbol from unconscious universally means you may have reached a place of calm in your life where you can take stock of your endeavours and be glad for what you have.

Ihhell Colquhoun is not an easy subject to uncover and her work is not easily interpreted. She came from a privileged background and was lucky to be affluent enough to devote her life to her passions. Over time she became increasingly reclusive and ended her days alone in her studio in Cornwall where she had been living a for many years. In the valley next to her home lived the gender non-conforming artist Gluck and their lover Nesta Obermer and even though these people shared many commonalities Ithell chose not to accept offers of friendship or companionship. In more recent years her work has grown in popularity, and she has been the subject of several biographies. Her notions of non-binary existence and feminist standpoints were outside of the norm of the world she lived in but she never shied away from allowing her art to connect to her beliefs and in a new era her spirit lives on in harmony now with more current ideas. She was however and remains a prickly subject.

Queer Theory, a lense for challenging norms in Food Studies

Queer Theory: A Lens for Challenging Norms in Food Studies

The use of the term "queer" in this work is deliberate, serving to connect it to my own identity while also aiming to challenge and disrupt prevalent heteronormative narratives. As Kwagiulth scholar Sarah Hunt and non-indigenous scholar Cindy Holmes articulate, "queer is a deconstructive practice focused on challenging normative knowledges, identities, behaviors, and spaces, thereby unsettling power relations and taken-for-granted assumptions. Queerness is then less about a way of ‘being’ and more about ‘doing’ and offers the potential for radical social critique" (Hunt & Holmes, 2015, p. 156).

Furthermore, applying these critical perspectives to food and food studies, Julia C. Ehrhardt highlights the transformative potential of queer insights in this domain: "As the nascent field of food studies takes shape, insights from queer studies have the potential to enrich our understandings of the interrelationships between food, gender, and sexuality by encouraging us to rethink and refine our concepts of these connections" (Ehrhardt, 2006).

Ehrhardt's words, drawn from her essay "Towards Queering Food Studies: Foodways, Heteronormativity, and Hungry Women in Chicana Lesbian Writing," serve as a gateway to the fusion of queer theory and food studies. She underscores the profound capacity of queer theory to illuminate the intricate web of connections between food, gender, and sexuality. This perspective prompts a re-evaluation and refinement of our comprehension of these complex interrelationships. In doing so, it challenges the heteronormative foundations that have long governed the field of food studies, fostering a more inclusive dialogue that welcomes diverse perspectives and experiences.    

Taking inspiration from Thomas A. Dowson's work in "Why Queer Archaeology" (2000), this review explores the potential of queer theory to reshape our understanding of the past. It encourages us to push the boundaries of conventional archaeology, even though this may raise concerns among traditional archaeologists (Dowson, 2000). Likewise, Andrea Smith, in "Queer Theory and Native Studies" (2010), argues that applying queer theory to Native Studies challenges the predominantly heteronormative and exclusive character of current scholarship. Similarly, the field of food studies has been predominantly grounded in normative theories (Smith, 2020). 

Rasmus Rahbek Simonsen's “A Queer Vegan Manifesto” eloquently unveils the interconnectedness of queer theory and food. Simonsen provocatively argues that the prevailing Western diet, centred around meat consumption, engenders a sense of obliviousness to the profound suffering of animals (Simonsen, 2012). This normative diet finds resonance in broader food production practices fraught with complex ethical and ecological dilemmas. By branding consumption that deviates from these norms as non-normative or queer, we challenge the societal constructs governing our relationship with food. 

In recent times, the term "queer" has transcended its origins and burgeoned into a realm encompassing various food-related events, podcasts, and literature. The "Big Queer Food Festival" has carved out a dedicated space for exploring diverse culinary avenues. Podcasts like "Queer the Table" delve into the intricate interplay between queer identity and food.   

The act of consuming nettles embodies this transgressive and non-normative stance. The beliefs and traditions intertwined with nettle consumption, whether rooted in ancient wisdom or emerging from alternative viewpoints, serve as a challenge to established norms. It is an act of indulgence from the fringes, epitomizing queer theory's inherent potential to disrupt and dismantle the status quo. 

Indigenous Connection

I have been writing, reading and thinking about indigenous connections over the past number of years. Sifting through ideas, thoughts and possibilities of how the past can be used to stimulate the present or indeed to help catapult into a future of greater respect for the environment.

Part of this questioning has been around the idea of eating our way towards a more indigenous future. Eating in a manner that breaks down notions of there being a bridge between nature and culture. the full image or plan for this has not yet fully gestated but somewhere there is a seed that is ready to pop and sprout an idea. Or more than an idea. The process will be symbiotic, a reciprocal situation brought about by realisation and the culmination of action, a reimagining and a reshaping a cultural shift and a new road. Or no road.

Buachalán buí

Intense heat has prevailed over the past week provoking Irelands first ever status orange weather warning for hot weather. The intensity is inescapable making nigh-time wrestlesness and day time temperatures soar relentlessly from sunrise to sunset. Many sea dips are required as well as cold-showers, ice cream and cold drinks.

In many this ways summer heat will begin the work of autumn and a drying process will later ease the work of decay to . I have notices this hint of Autumn almost from mid summer with little hints here and ther,Rowan berries ripening and the odd blackberry already in full deep black. The piles of fallen and dried leaves accumulating on pathways and in the gutters. Its hard to let go but this little by little process lets me let go of summer with a little more ease and I do in this heat find myself looking forward to Octobers crispness. It also puts the Chinese philosophical notion of ying and yang to mind and the notion of nothing being total and complete but always balanced with some of its opposite. In life there is death.

The colour palate now comprises the high summer deep reds, crimsons, purples and yellows with brown and rust creeping in to replace lush green. The bright yellow flowers of the Ragwort shine through the dried grass in an abandoned field that we like to bring the dogs too. All the grass has climaxed and gone tumbling over into folds of beige, gold and brown. Exhausted and heavy. Undeterred the ragwort pushes through. I have found myself increasingly drawn to this plant whose identity is synonymous with many misunderstood facts. Yes, it can be poisonous to cattle, horses, ponies and donkeys but generally they tend to leave it alone knowing that the bitter alkaloids give it a very unpleasant flavour. It tends only to be devoured when there is little else to graze. The consumption docent bring instant death but can cause much discomfort and if eaten regularly can cause more serious problems. The real problem here is human carelessness and when mowing hay more care and consideration should be given to what is being cut. Once the grass and other plants have been dried and presented as food the warning bright yellow of the flowers no longer signals danger to these poor animals. Now this can cause serious problems.

Today on my walk by the canal I noticed the magnificant yellow and black stripes of the Cinnabar Moth caterpillar whose preferred home is Ragwort. They absorb toxic and bitter tasting alkaloid substances from munching on these plants, and assimilate these bitter alkaloids, becoming unpalatable themselves.The bright colours of both the larvae and the moths act as warning signs, so they are seldom eaten by predators. Numbers of both caterpillar and moth have fallen much in recent years due to the irradiation of this plant. Ironically these creatures naturally do this task and larger numbers of caterpillar would keep Ragwort in check.

A glance at Mrs Grieves Modern Botanical gives rich information about the folk traditions and uses for ragwort.

“Ragwort was formerly much employed medicinally for various purposes. The leaves are used in the country for emollient poultices and yield a good green dye, not, however, permanent. The flowers boiled in water give a fair yellow dye to wool previously impregnated with alum. The whole plant is bitter and aromatic, of an acrid sharpness, but the juice is cooling and astringent, and of use as a wash in burns, inflammations of the eye, and also in sores and cancerous ulcers - hence one of its old names, Cankerwort. It is used with success in relieving rheumatism, sciatica and gout, a poultice of the green leaves being applied to painful joints and reducing the inflammation and swelling. It makes a good gargle for ulcerated throat and mouth, and is said to take away the pain caused by the sting of bees. A decoction of the root has been reputed good for inward bruises and wounds. In some parts of the country Ragwort is accredited with the power of preventing infection.”

A little further research uncovers fascinating associations with witchcraft. In many parts of Wales Scotland and Ireland it was imagined that Witches flew on steeds of ragwort and not on the more common broomstick. Also balms incorporating hallusnagenichallusnagenic herbs were used ceremonially. And although Ragwort itself dose not have any such offering it is suggested that it could in fact increase bloodflow to the skin thus bringing on a more rapid and efficiant trip.

The Irish name for this plant is Buchalli or Buchalan Bui, Yellow Boy an instantly and distinctially familiar name that conjures perhaps something of an anthropomorphic presence. And like our bovine and equine friends much respect is traditionally shown for this plant. And understandably so as not just Witches favoured riding this plant so to it would appear did fairies. A Sligo saying reflects the caution and respect shown for this plant in most of the country

“Don’t call it a weed though a weed it may be, this the horse of the fairies the Buachalan Bui”

Buddleia

My morning ritual of wandering the wild bank of the Grand Canal between Bluebell and Ballyfermot begins with a mad crisscrossing dash up the Tyreconnell Road. Maurice our Scottish Terrier loves to lunge barking loudly, in a bark more suited to a much larger dog, at any other passing dogs, motorbikes, certain trailers, the odd tractor and kids on scooters that cross our path. The dash and the crisscross is to avoid this calamity and the chaos of Maurices barking causing the other two dogs to follow suit, often barking and pulling in different directions. This adrenal rush has slightly abated this month due to school holidays but is nonetheless a nail biting challenge at times. Dogs distracted and soothed by treats gives me a few moments peace with a flat-white on a stool in front of Boom Coffee where this morning all chat was about yesterdays break in and robbery. Craig the coffee shops owner was quite shook up by the incident. I chatted to a local man outside who reeled off a list of similar recent incidents and removed his baseball cap to show me the fresh cut on his forehead caused by stone throwing youths on my favoured stretch of the canal last Saturday night.

I mulled this over as I made my way along the canal. There are lots of things that attract me to this particular spot but the two most obvious reasons are that the dogs can roam freely more or less uninterrupted here and after the mad rush of getting here the pace relaxes and allows for much meandering and sniffing and checking out of undrgrowth(thats the dogs not me)And personally I get to see, feel and smell the seasons with the ever changing waves of growth and decay in the mostly undisturbed flora of this wild spot. This incident brought into focus how much you need to be aware of the surrounding city even if the immediate landscape would appear benign and as much as ruminating on nature is part of the attraction it cant be with total absorption. Always best to keep my sences attuned to more than just the immedite.

Now in the hight of summer there is much to absorb and to be absorbed by. Elderflowers are past their short lived prime and the huge saucers of delicate cream have mostly evaporated and just the stragglers remain. Now is the time of Meadow Sweet whose vanilla and candy-floss scented contributions are interwoven through the long grasses and reeds on either side of the path. These beauties have been seeing growing interest from the forager and chef communities and have been making appearances on the more discerning menus of the season.

But the plant that has consumed me most in recent days is Buddleia whose heavily scented flowers in shades of pale lilac and mauve through to deepest purple always have a mesmerising impact on me. This is partly driven by nostalgia as they feature heavily in memories of summer holidays to west cork and my grandparents home there. Smell is such a strong and clever trigger. So of course is colour. And Buddleia has a deep deep impact. It forms a trio of plants with Crocosmia and Fuchsia that to me as a child represented the wild hedgerows of West Cork in the hight of summer. Odd then to think that each of these plants though naturalised are non native. This I only pieced together many many years after my last childhood holiday and was surprised and a bit shocked by this fact. A point I will return to and unwrap further later in the summer.

Back to Buddleia. I have a habit of researching plants as they come into season and so every year I can add to my personal data bank of information as well as my personal experience of plants, which is always the best starting point. There are over a hundred species and cultivars of Buddleia but the most common type is Buddleia davidii (also known as the "Butterfly Bush"), which came originally from China and was named after Father Père Armand David a French Missionary/Botanist who had been visiting Ichang City in Hubei province (Central/Eastern China) in 1887. And although there seem to no culinary uses for this plant it is used in both Chinese and Korean traditional medicines.

Aside from this it has managed to both ubiquitous and largely invisible at the same time. It is invisible in the sense that it goes greatly unnoticed by the general public who seem mostly blind to its charms. I have noted this so many times as I try to describe it to mystified faces. Mystification replaced by shrugging acknowledgment of “ oh yeah Butterfly Bush” on sight. As well as this mean feat, its tenacious nature means that it seems equally at home in city and countryside, clinging to old redbrick chimneys and forming mini forests in the most unlikely of abandoned spaces.

But its the personal connection that gripes the most and I return again and again to this plant drawn in by its magical abilities to conjure a sense of warm nostalgia and comfort. Its purple flowers alive and humming with the buzz and work of differnt insects from butterflys to bees makes this a powerful and potent symbol of summer, growth, hard work and beauty.

Giving Back

Currently i feel much less inclined to gather and to store, to save and harvest. I feel it unnessesary. At one point i felt i could never get enough of the abundance everywhere and felt a deep need to to make plants from the wild into food. but now for some reason i am much keener on observing and learning and the desire to gather is on a hiatus. There is no particular reason for this and its not a concious decision that i made, rather it is somthing that has emerged from within and a gradual lessening of desire.

I was listening to Robin Harfords eatweeds podcast and he expressed soimilar thoughts and not that i needed validation but somhow this brought it more I nto my conciousness and there was a kind of urika moment of recognition. I thought somehow that by constantly physically working with the seasons in an effort to somhow maintain and store the content, energy and context or each I was somehow saving it and therefore was wortthy. But i am one man and can only consume so much and my needs are mostly met by visits to shops and restaurants. I really have no need to suppliment this. That said I do of course still dabble and collect for specific occasions or for a recepie. But on the whole I no longer feel the need.

I feel my role now is of teacher and guide with takingaleaf a point of inspiration and encouragement to others to begin their own journeys.

Tailteau

It all begins with the chance finding of an old cookbook in a secondhand bookshop in Blackrock. I wandered in with only the intention of sheltering from the rain but “The Tailteann Cookery Book” seemed to beckon me from a tabletop weighed down with this and other dusty old volumes. It wasnt so much the dull pea green cover ,that had long since lost its dust jacked, but more so the word Tailteann that inspired investigation. Intrigued and wanting to know more I purchased the old book and once home poured over the pages of recipes. This was a second edition published and printed by the Dublin company WM. Warren and Son in 1935 and is as removed from the glossy cookbooks of today as it could possibly be. Instead this is a practical resource and covers not just recipes for food but also sections on cleaning equipment and a wonderful section called ‘Invalid Cookery’. Somewhat like Maura Lavertys Full and Plenty but preceeding it by several decades. But none of this brought me any closer to the word Tailteann. Much googling later and I arrive at the Tailteann games which were ancient games similar to the Olympic games but held in Ireland and their name a derivative of Tailteau a woman from Irish mythology. She was the stepmother of Lugh of the long arm and the wife of the last Fir Bolg king of Ireland. When the Tuath De Dannan took control of the country they tasked Tailteau with clearing the country of forests and vegetation to make way for agriculture. This labour eventually and ensuing exhaustion led eventually to her death her son Lugh (whome the aincent festival of Lughnasa is named in honour) vowed to hold annual games in her memory on the sight where she lay dead.

From this chance finding of a book came the notion of celebrating this forgotten fragment of history and this character. Taking this as the main theme I decided to engage with the Celtic calendar and the veneration of the changing seasons and they're associated festivals Samhain, Imbolc, Bealtine and Lunassa. Each one acknowledged by a gathering centred around a meal composed of dishes suitably attuned with the season and featuring components foraged directly from the immediate neighbourhood.

Foraging

Foraging is the oldest form of food procurement known to our species and was the only one for much of our history. It precedes all other advancements that required the use of tools and instruments. It places our history deep within the natural cycles and rhythms of the planet and the fundamental understanding of the ever-changing rise and fall of the seasonal growth patterns as well as migratory patterns. Knowing what was good to eat and where it could be best harvested from was fundamental to survival. Perhaps this instinct lyes dormant within us allwithin and with it a desire for reconnection and engagement with something more natural than a supermarket trolly and to engage with the world in an authentic manner.

In the so called developed world that we find ourselves in today this connection is not essential for survival and all information and skills associated with it have more or less been lost. There is however a trend currently towards the authentic flavour procured from any given location giving an authentic experience of place. The double Michelin stared Aimsir restaurant is an example of the seemingly extreme lengths that chefs will go to to ensure local is just that. Here the menu consists of seasonal and local taken to the absolute zenith of meaning with all dishes consisting of that which can only come naturally from the local environment without any polytunnels or other intervention. By extention this also includes flavours from wild plants and herbs. This approach is an homage to the nordic stye fashioned originally by Rene Redzepi at his Noma restaurant in Copenhagen and was quickley followed by a host of other restaurants and chefs who have adopted and adapted this simple ethos of local and seasonal to suit their own terroir. Rene indeed has also paid homage to the great lady of Irish food Myrtle Allen whose simple homely style upset the 1970s notions of what was hip and current and forged a path that was simple and gently revolutionary and raising the notion of local and seasonal to the international plate.This leaves the palate with the challenge of perhaps tasting things greatly and sadly ignored. This has restimulated interest in foraging for local foods. This is mostly in high end luxury restaurants but as with all things of this nature there is a trickle down effect that makes what is viewed to be luxurious and desirable will become commonplace. Perhaps this will herald an awakening towards the benefits of the natural world and the flavours of the immediate landscape. An important step in conservation and in connection.

But it is also important to note that that there are few paralels between foraging and shopping for food and much to bare in terms of being mibdful and fair when harvesting directly from nature. Always treat plants with the utmost respect and never take mor than you need and never ever take an ammount that will imapre the growth and renewal of a plant or plants. Also very important to keep in mind all the other insects, birds and animals that may rely on this plant as a food stuff. I was also thought to leave plants idle in the winter months.

Nettles

‘Nettles ,Nicolas Culpepper(the 17th century herbalist, botanist, physician and astrologer,) is quoted as saying , may be found by feeling for them in the darkest night"

Usually makeing appearance from March onwards but can apperar earlier if mild weather permitts. Best to wait until there is abundant growth to start harvesting so from late March until they start flowering from late May. So once the plants have started flowering they produce cystoliths which are like microscopic rods of calcium carbonate and these can interfere with kidney function. So there is wisdom in the old belief that nettles should not be touched once Bealtaine has passed. However you can get fresh nettle growth again later in the year towards the end of the summer and throughout the autumn months. The herbalist Judith hood reccomends eating nettles in the spring time and then drying them for tea later in the year.

Nettles have their own particular flavour which I can only describe as a rich creamy greenness. Once the fear of being stung has been over come then their uses are unlimited. People often compare them to spinach but I think not and that they have a more intense flavour that oddly reminded me of milk and I imagine this has somthing to do with the high calcium content of the plant.Eating them feels like you are really doing your self a favour.

You can go down the traditional root and prepare a soup with them I have been looking at a lot of recipes for nettle soup in Ireland and although they do vary somewhat from contemporary takes which include all sorts to very basic old fashioned a lot of them do tend to include nettle, butter, oats and milk.

The more you look on line the more information about the nutritional value of nettles I uncover with some herbalists using the word miracleous when describing their potent ability. In traditional Chinese medicine they are included in a range of herbs that are traditionally used in springtime to tonify the kidneys and herbs. They in particular tonify Jing which is stored in the kidneys. There is no easy translation of Jing but it is associated with our adrenal l system. It also gives us the ability to move through the different stages of life fro infancy to old age. Nourishing and nurturing the Jing is an essential key to maintaining good health.

Spring is a time for fasting and cleansing as well as for nourishing and toning the liver an d the kidneys. Chinese medicine puts much emphasis on this but here in Ireland I see much parallels with this and lent with the giving upon sugar and fats and although the origins and traditions of this are very much more blurred then the directly accessible wisdom of the eastern tradition. I can however draw parallels between the traditions of abstinence and in the western christian belief system and the tcm cleansing spring period.

Nettle is widley seen as a traditional spring tonic and taken by people as a antidote to winter and depleted systems.

Using fresh nettles directly on the skin for rheumatic pain is called Urtication

According to Mrs Grieve’s Herbal the juice of the nettle is a great antidote to their sting

Superstitions and folklore are still strong in rural parts of Ireland. It fascinates me as to how much good common sense there is in. Lives governed and punctuated by adherence to significance and meaning in. A different kind of connection to the natural world, one of both reverance and respect and a different understanding. A systematic movement with the natural evolving seasons and rhythmic connection.

Herb Bennet

Herb Bennet, Wood Avens, Clove root, Old Mans Beard, St Benedicts Herb all these are just a smattering of the coloquial and commenly used names for Wood Avens a plant that belongs to the larger plant family of the rose whose other members include raspberry, blackberry, apple, quince, pear, almond and plum as well as the wild plants meadowsweet, hawthorn and rowan.

The characteristic clove like scent and flavour of the roots perhaps give something of a clue about the beliefs that were once associated with and ascribed to this plant. It was believed that if leaves of the plant were kept in the house then Satans power would have no power there. It also provided protection to travellers and was thus worm as an amulet around the neck to ward off unwelcome attack on journeys. The three parts to the leave represented the holy trinity and the five petals of the yellow flower the wounds of Christ.

It is interesting that this plant has been ignored despite its culinary potential and is utterly unrepresented as a native flavour in this country. Whereas cloves, an imported commodity, is relatively well known if somewhat old-fashioned Wood Avens are not distilled into a liquor or added to cakes and confectionary. If a flavour profile offered by the local landscape was to be explored then this would be one of the main components as would the rose flavour extracted from the leaves of the blackberry bush itself another member of the rose family. Then of course the peppery aromatic strangeness of Alexander seeds, the utterly bitter zing of rowan berries, earthy nettles, pungent wild garlic and three cornered leeks, the intense almond flavour of blackthorn leaf buds, pine, water mint, elderflowers, meadowsweet. Some of these are already well known while others are totally underutelised and badly in need of exploration.

Crim

Crim is a very old irish word for wild garlic and crimfeis refers to a annual feast provided by a client or tenenant to his lord. Evidence for this is from the 8th century and who knows how long before that it may have existed. The feast itself concisted of the crim with cheese and milk and was usually offered in the weeks coming up to Easter.

There is also some evidence to suggest that late spring was a time when the heaver meat based diets of winter were replaced by more plant based diet with Wild Garlic and no doudt Fat Hen and Good King Henry being consumed. These plants were, at one time commonly grown in gardens but have fallen out of favour or flavour or been replaced by other plants but they can still be found in the wild. As recently as the 19th century in Ireland, wild garlic was used to flavour butter instead of salt. There is also some evidence of bog butter, found by turf cutters, was flavoured with wild garlic and left to mature in the bog to enhance its flavour and probably to store it over a period of time.

This allium has become a bit of a star over the past number of years making appearances on menus where there is an interest in the current trend for wild food. It also benefits from being easily recognisable and identifiable with its oval shaped leaves and tiny white flowers. Its pungent smell will also give a pretty good indication of location and identity. it favours shaded woodland and can form large carpets where it has been left to grow undisturbed. All parts of the plant are edable but its the leaves that are most often used and they are at their best in the comming weeks. once the flowers emmerge the leaves become tough and woody and are best left alone. But the flowers are a wonderful addition to salads and the sedheads that follow are great picked fresh or pickled.

Traditionaly its healing uses have been often in relation to stomach and digestion issues. A quick glance through the folklore collection archive revels a few details of old country traditions and in general provides with a positive glimpses of the localised uses of the plant. No mentions of cullinary so much as for its healing qualities. Interestingly one quote says '

Years ago garlic was grown in several parts of every farm to prevent disease in cattle. But as farmers became more "up to date" they dug it up as it was supposed to injure the flavour of their butter.'

What an evocotive turn of phrase “injure the flavour of the butter” . Interesting too that the more up to date notion was to dig up the garlic and not to let the cattle graze it.

Daily therapy

Over the past year I imagine I have explored every nook and cranny of the allocated 5 km radius of our home here in Inchicore. In the early days I set out with the intention of trying every road and street to see were there as of yet undiscovered places worthy of interest. I found new routs, shortcuts and streets but over time my walks have become more routine with my favourite places being those with the most greenery and the least amount of people. This works also when I can lets the dogs roam freely and mostly uninterruptedly and leaves me time to ruminate.

There is something distinctly restorative and therapeutic about being out in a green space. Of course in the city you have to take this where you find it. Parks are great but sometimes I long for something a little wilder and not looked after. This requires a little more searching and sometimes a lot of compromising in terms of what might be considered green or wild. Sometimes a shift in perception of beauty and focus will reveal something new. For instance there is much beauty in dereliction and in neglect and as an example I might suggest really looking at any unkept space in the urban environment and see how quickly mature takes over. Listen to the birds here and see the growth of seeds quickly reclaiming little pockets of soil and quietly going about their natural cycles.

The other blind eye that dose need to be turned is to the filth of our lives polluting everything and everywhere. Although getting into the habit of occasionally bringing out gloves and a refuse bag to collect some of the endless supply of plastic bottles, take away containers of various styles and flavours, bottle tops, cigarette packets, beer bottles , etc. It dosen’t even dint the enormity of it but it helps.

Over time familiarity leads to noticing the little peculiarities and oddities of the landscape, knowing which birds are where and learning their calls and songs. Proper identification is less important than noticing. I would say this too of plants. Notice and learn they're natural cycles before investigating the scientific understanding. This is then a daily practice of visiting and spending quiet time watching, listening, smelling and feeling. It refreshes our own perceptions and lends a new layer to our understanding.

Bramble

I cant remember where or from whom I was first alerted to the flavour of young blackberry shoots but I am rather partial to this rosey macadamia flavour. It’s a surprising discovery when first tasted and not what you imagine it’s going to be, fresh, bright, green and nutty. There is more it would seem to the blackberry bush than just blackberries.

In fact a little research throws up much in the way of interesting informaton in relation to our history with this plant. Considering its ubiquity and easy identification there is no wonder in how well represented in folklore.The most obvious and well known story concerns when blackberries should and shouldn’t be eaten ie not after Samhain as the pucha or the devil had a habit of spitting on them around this time. Common sense ascribed to a story or warning.

Perhaps a little less well known and far more macabre is the story of how the double ended bramble shoot could be used to evoke an evil power that could be then aimed at ones enemies. But you paid the price for the use of this power with your own soul.

Cutting back

The precarious nature of some of the wild places I visit regular was highlighted for me today. The path that for the past year has been my almost daily source of exercise, inspiration and meditation was trimmed back some time yesterday. And done so in a manner that was way less than amicable and not at all considerate. One beautiful willow that was just beginning to put out its yearly growth was butchered beyond recognition. Further along the path dog roses and bramble were completely destroyed. I cannot fathom the meaning for this as the growth was by no means getting in anyones way and the maintenance of a pristine path is both futile and of no purpose other than perhaps some outmoded idea of conformity and tidiness.

This was the home of many birds, butterflies, bees, wasps, rabbits, foxes and many plants. There will over the coming months no doubt re establish. But the point is could such a butchering be avoided and some measure be implemented that benefited all and not just a box ticked in some office.

Shrove Tuesday

Shrove apparently coming from the old english word shrive which means to obtain absolution for ones sins and to be cleansed of them. But the use of the word historically and its association with this particular day would also suggest consumption of dairy and fats before the fasting of the 40 day lenten period. This being the period of time traditionally used by Christians to fast in preperation for the most holy of days, Easter Sunday. A tradition carried on for the past couple of millennia or so. A quick google reveals little information on the supplanting of the christian narrative here so I can but assume that the adherence to a spring clean is very old indeed.

Nowadays we have absolved ourselves of the past and dismantled the shackles of the religion of our immediate ancestors and all vestige is gone except for the pancake consumed with much eagerness on this day. Instagram awash today with images of the crepe in every conceivable variant. Yum.

But its got me thinking more of the fast rather than the feast and whether it is religiously prescribed or not it is an interesting aspect of our history and is imbedded in many traditions for spiritual and cleansing puposes as well as for its many proported health giving aspects. Fasting has been used therapeutically since at least the 5th century bce, when Greek physician Hippocrates recommended abstinence from food or drink for patients who exhibited certain symptoms of illness. Todays fashion for intermittant fasting, that is confining the hours for eating therefore giving time for a daily fast and therefore time for the body to properly consume absorbe and disperse energy is perhaps a contemperory manefestation of an ages old tradition.

Here in ireland the Irish names for certain days of the week were allinghned with the weekley fasting system of the church. Dé Céadaoin first fast, Déardaoin between fasts Dé hAoine day of fast. Again could this maybe harken back to some older system? Much to ponder.

Cold weather

The past few days have been icy with flurries of what looks like tiny little balls of snow or the fillings from a bean bag or cushion. Not really enough of them to form a blanked but instead they form temporary drifts along the edge off the road and around the base of trees where what little substance they do have is quickly blown elsewhere. This makes an altogether unreal effect like everything has been overlaid with a thin film made up of fake pixels. Everything is poised waiting for the “beast” to return and grind everything to a halt, although everything is pretty much there already.

Despite this I am amazed at the advancement bulbs have made on the balcony in the last few days. I was late planting daffodils, narcissus, peonies and crocus with nothing going into pots until late November. Daily I watch for progress and amazingly in the last few days I have seen the first sign of those green tongues being pushed up through the soil. I am relieved imagining the planting to be too late to catch this season and I would have to wait a full year again for the excitement of spring bulbs flowering.

Living in the city and confinement to the same few streets and roads can impact but I feel like this cold can bring me into a greater connection with nature and all its vigour. Layering on an extra jumper and scarf on-top of about 5 other layers I take the dogs out for their morning run along the canal. Morris is curious, Minnie already a frost fan, rolls on-top of the grass and exalts in whatever it is she gets out of this.

Cross quarter days

Cross quarter days are the mid points between solstice and equinox. Roughly coinciding with the changing seasons these auspicious occasions have been venerated in this country and beyond for ever. In James Frasers “The Golden Bough” , an exploration of magic and religion, the author hypothesis that the start of summer and the end of autumn were the first to be marked by our ancestors as these correlated with the movement of cattle herds from low ground to high ground and the others were later recognised.

As a time of change and renewal Imbolc at the start of February is a recognition of the transition from the dark inward looking months of winter and the turning towards the light and with it new growth and transformation. Perhaps the exact traditions and customs have been eroded and the context irrevocably altered but the event is nonetheless as significant now as it ever was. Somewhere in us is still this desire to resonate with the change. Irregardless of seasons blending or climate crisis the solar interaction is unchanging. Not exact, not unchanging, but eternal.

Imbolc

A cross quarter day, that is mid point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox which occurs between the 2nd and the 7th of February. This year it is on the 4th. But rather than it being exactly represented on the calendar the festival is given the fixed calendar abode of the 1st of February or St Brigets’s Day or Imbolc to give it its proper ancient title.

Misty origins of this festival are still suggested in the practices still in circulation today, chiefly the making of Brigets’s crosses from reeds a tradition that predates the introduction of the Christian cross. This simple mandala offers protection from fire for the coming year and should be placed on or near the entrance way for full effect.

I attempted making one today but the reeds were too brittle. So I will try again for the 4th and soak the reeds in water to make them more pliable. I cut the reeds this morning from the banks of the canal.

Just a Note

Remember to notice the small things. The tiny almost imperseptible changes each day. The colour which is harder to find now, but its there. Its always there, it never leaves. Somtimes its just very well hidden. And the smells. The good smells. The earth, the air, the rain, the trees, the grass, the dogs. All sleeping now.

Daily Walks

Having dogs has many benefits, perhaps too may to count. Our family is made up of three dogs and two humans. Thats Minnie a 10 year old West Highland Terrier, Malcolm a 5 year old WHT and Maurice a three year old Scottish Terrier. Then there is Paul my husband and me. The dogs are not our children or our fur babies, a concept I despise but they are none the less part of our family.

Getting out with them first thing in the morning is now so much part of my daily routine. Hail, sun, snow rain we are up and out, usually just before nine in the winter months and as early as 7 in the Summer. This past year in particular the daily routine has taken on more significance and has become a vital part of life and I somtimes spend up to two hours walking with them. The rout I now favour most is chosen for several reasons. Firstly there are less people which currently is essential. Secondly there are less dogs as this can be way too distracting for my lot especially if they are on the lead. Thirdly it syncs me with the minute daily changes in season and has brought me closer to the natural cycles and passages of time.

Early morning walks benefit from hearing plentiful birdsong and I love to tune in to the daily sounds. Male thrushes are currently sounding out their mating territories and in doing so are singing through their entire repertoire. This has stopped me in my tracks on more than one occasion.

This can also be a time for uninterrupted rumination and visualisation. For pondering ideas and wondering at outcomes. Daydreaming with intent really. A magical focus and meditation on possibilities.

It also gives me time tune into the plants and their constant changing details. Winters dormant state will soon be stirred and the growth cycle will begin again.