Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas VII :: Fireside Games, Divination, and Storytelling

 
Reading in Christmas in the Mountains about games played around the fire on Christmas Eve makes me remember those Winter days when we couldn't go out for recess.  The teacher would play games with us and it was always such fun.  We'd play "Good Morning, Mr. Judge", "Heads Up, Seven Up," and "Four Corners."  There were so many, though I'm not sure I'd remember the rules to all of them.  We'd always clamor for more. 

The games Mr. Davis lists those that are like "nutting," where you make guesses about numbers: Hull Gull, Jack in the Bush.  They guessed using pieces of parched corn, which was also a snack.  This idea is explored in the The Children of Noisy Village, and might be a good way to introduce such a game to children.  "Old Granny Gobble" sounds like it was a clapping and pounding game, which would be well suited to a homeschool environment (you have to remember the ever-lengthening sequence).  Not to be missed was "Snapdragon," where the players try to snatch raisins from a bowl of flaming brandy, a Victorian favorite.

Christmas Eve and St. Thomas' Eve were both good times to try out a little divination.  The most common things to divine were the identity of one's future husband and his age. Going to bed with holly (or in older times, an onion!) under the pillow with these words would aid things:

Good St. Thomas, serve me right,
And send me a true love tonight,
That I may gaze upon his face,
Then, him in my fond arms embrace.

If that didn't work, you could always hang out by the pig pen around midnight.  In an old hog grunted first, you'd marry an old man.  A young shoat, a young man.  There was a fair bit of cheating in that superstition, with girls shutting up the older animals.

Christmas, what with its get-togethers was a wonderful time to tell stories of all moods, reverent and otherwise.  The book tells what might be the quintessential mountain tale of a Winter so cold even words froze up.  People would have to sit by the fire and thaw them out just to hear them!  There's the magical German tale of a poor family who takes in a lone boy and awakens to find him transformed into the Christ-child.  And lastly, Mr. Davis shares the story of "The Lord for Dinner" where a woman turns away numerous needy guests, all her Lord in disguise. It's a traditional lesson in hospitality, though the days of strangers coming to the door (think The Waltons) are long gone.

I really want to travel back in time and celebrate Christmas with these folks, don't you?

Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas VI :: Home for Christmas

Here's a vision from Christmases past--our little bungalow in the snow, back when our family was just three people with a Roan on the way.  This Winter may prove to be as cold as that one was.  Brrrr! 

So, home for Christmas and customs in an affluent rural community are up next from Christmas in the Mountains.  Preparations began in Autumn, as I guess they do now.  Nuts falling, good things being put up from the gardens, weather cold enough to allow for butchering.  All very Little House in the Big Woods.  Firewood was chopped and laid ready.  The Christmas fire was believed to have held in is embers the souls of family members who had gone before.  They came in this way to join in the festivities and it was considered bad luck to let it go out.

The meal preparations included many of the favorites of that time, along with things that were plentiful.  Stack cake, hams, chicken and dumplings, black walnut cake, candy, homemade light bread, and the like might be on the menu.  People saved here and there, no matter how few their resources, so that the day would have a special air and special foods.  And there was plenty of cider and that eggnog.

Descriptions and recipes for these items and more, if not in your own files, can be found in The Foxfire Book of Appalachian Cookery and A Foxfire Christmas.  They also include recipes that were served more often, and probably in more homes--leather breeches, cornbread or pone, stewed dried fruits and berries, and plainer foods.   A Foxfire Christmas really captures the want that some mountain people truly struggled under, and their joy at filling their own tables when they grew up.

To be called to "put your feet under the board" was the summons for the meal.  Mr. Davis tells of Mother apologizing for the meal, which I have been witness to many times.  I think it must be a learned (inherited?) skill of mountain women.  My mother has always been able to make a whole meal out of nearly any ingredients, and she always fished for compliments by apologizing for the meager selection on the full to bursting table.. ;-) 

Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas V :: A Community Christmas

Oh, it is so cold here!  I think it hasn't gotten out of the twenties since Sunday.  This was our nature table last year and I recreated something similar today.  I really love the little sledders!  Let's move along to our fifth day.

According to Christmas in the Mountains, people seldom celebrated Christmas the same way across the many communities of Southwest Virginia.  There simply wasn't much news that wasn't carried on foot or through the mail.  Jean Ritchie relays something very similar when she tells her sister's story of the Ritchie's first Christmas tree.  Can't you tell I love that album?  I discovered it when I was a midnight librarian.  It changed my perspective in a big way and I fell down a lot of Christmas rabbit holes.

Mr. Davis tells of a Mrs. Miller, aged ninety, and her recollections of Christmas celebrations in Pulaski County, VA.  When I made maps in Wythe County, I joked that all back roads led to Pulaski.  Anyway, her story comes from the 1850's and for them, Christmas began at 3:00 in the morning!  The residents would meet at the host's home for eggnog spiked with peach or apple brandy.

At six o'clock, breakfast was served and folks went home to tend to the chores.  Back again, they'd continue their celebrations with a shooting match and a big Christmas dinner.  A religious service in the afternoon completed the observance.

It sounds like a nice day, truly, and there are times when I long to see the Appalachia that is depicted in places like the Blue Ridge Parkway or The Great Smokies.  They were a hardy lot, for sure, and the spirit of community was probably very strong.  I get a taste of that at events like the Maple Syrup Festival, the Ramp Festival, and the Grayson Highlands Fall Festival.  Those are put on by a couple of volunteer fire departments and people really, really turn out for them.  It lifts the spirits to see young folks working alongside the older people.  I hope it goes on for a long, long time.

Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas IV :: Christmas Bells, Serenading and Little People

Here was our own littlest person in 2014.  Forgive me the use of these old photos.  It is fun to remember and I don't do it often enough.

I'm sharing information from two books, Christmas in the Mountains and A Foxfire Christmas, in the event that this is your first reading from this series.  I'm trying to mesh the chapters and topics as best I can. Thanks for reading along!

It is the custom in many places to ring bells to mark Christmas coming in.  Clay Boy's grandfather does it in The Homecoming: A Christmas Story and the little girl and her mother ring in the day in The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree.  In Hubert Davis's book, he tells of the custom of ringing the bells nine times with a pause and then another three rings.  This was to signify the death of the devil and the birth of Christ.  Then the bells were rung for as long as an hour.  The Devil's Knell, as it was called, originiated in Yorkshire, England, and the devil was believed to have sickened and died at midnight.  There was a similar tradition for the New Year.

Serenading is a tradition dear to my heart, and the easiest one to bring into one's family culture today.  Mike and I first did it when we were newly married, walking my parents' road to see some friends and give them songs.  We were inspired by Jean Ritchie's account in Singing Family of the Cumberlands.  You can hear a little bit of it here.  I e-mailed her that year and got a sweet reply! The kind described in her book involved singing very loudly, so that the folks of the house invite you in for some kind of treat.  We certainly got that treatment when we serenaded our neighbors here in town.  I'd really like to do it this year with the children, now that Willow can read along.

The last item for today involves the little folks that were very much a part of life in the British Isles, specifically the town of Glastonbury.  There are many legends surrounding the origin of the Glastonbury Thorn, but the one shared in Christmas in the Mountains sounds like it could be a Sparkle Story.  An old pious man takes a fall in the forest and witnesses little folks at work on Christmas Eve.  Searching for just the right way to honor the Christ Child, he helps them find a twig and it bursts into bloom just as Christmas morning dawns.

More tomorrow.  Goodbye!

Twelve Days of an Appalchian Christmas III :: Santa, Gifts, and Spirits

Oh, that little face!  This is a photo of Roan from four years ago.  I'm revisiting some old pictures for this series.  He has always loved St. Nicholas.  He's got his own beard and red sack this year.

The days are getting shorter,
An' the nights are stretchin' out;
An' the kids are all talkin'
Of Old Santa hearabouts.

~Huber J. Davis, as it appeared in the Herald Courier


Fun things, after some seriousness yesterday!

The mountain Christmas didn't often have a whole pile of presents under and around the tree.  Even our own celebration is not that way, but we are happy, no less.  Many people, if they got anything, got it in their socks from "Old Santy"--an apple, an orange, a simple doll or homemade toy.  There were prank gifts, to be sure, like old pig snouts(!) or sweet potatoes in mama's stocking.  The Foxfire book tells many such stories, along with those from adults who had nothing at all for Christmas, save the usual gravy and biscuits.  Both books (the other being Christmas in the Mountains) mention the occasional family who found their gifts at the table, on their plates.  This was also done in the Little House series numerous times.

There was the game of "Christmas Gift"  where folks hurried to be the first one to say it when they were visiting.  Some expected a gift in return for being first, others did not and it was just a greeting.  This was an extension of going "a-Thomasing" back in England.  It wasn't exactly begging, but it was certainly a way to give help to folks who might need it.  An old friend of mine wrote of his mountain Christmas experience, and talks of churches giving gifts on Christmas Eve, in a similar fashion.  I have received many brown "pokes" of goodies at the last service before the big day.

The Appalachian people enjoyed their share of rowdy traditions, like wassailing the apple trees in the orchards.  You can read more about it in this post from last year.  We certainly like doing it, with sweet cider, as a reminder that we really do count of the fruit of the earth to sustain us.  Another activity, which we still hear is shooting off fireworks or guns on Christmas day.  It was meant to drive off evil spirits, but I'd say it was also pretty fun.  Other cultures do similar things, like this clip from Rick Steves.

I can just hear my great-grandmother Virgie (1907-2010) asking me "What did ole Santy bring you in your sock?"

Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas II :: Christmas Customs Mishmash

The second chapter in Christmas in the Mountains concerns the history of Christmas traditions.  It includes the idea of celebrating Christmas later, which is well summed up in this article about Old Christmas.  The author of Christmas in the Mountains felt that the Southwest Virginia folks lost their unique old traditions when things became more connected through railroads, roads and television.  I do wish I could have asked my great-grandmother about her Christmas experiences, since her life was so long.

I find myself struggling to sort out what to say about the origins of our winter festivals and how we have melded them over the centuries.  Syncretism has been hard at work, and it becomes difficult to untangle ourselves in the mix of ancient traditions and those that are rather new.  There's this little History Channel piece on Christmas, which we enjoy watching, though we are not historians.  I'll admit that I like the long history of winter celebrations (unsavory customs aside), and feel a connection to people from long ago who celebrated the lengthening of days and return of the light.   

I really enjoy contemplating the mystery of this season as each year passes.  I think it is something I'll never finish unraveling.  What are your thoughts?  I promise more fun tomorrow. :-)

Twelve Days of an Appalachian Christmas I :: Beginnings

I'm hoping, good Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, to spend the next days writing a little about the history and customs of Christmas celebrations in Appalachia.  Our own celebrations have been a little disjointed, with moments of pure joy and others of desperation, as the children have taken turns being sick.  It had been six months, so I guess we were very blessed!  Let's just hope Mama doesn't take a turn!  Enough of that, let's begin with some Christmas preparations in these dear mountains.

I'm referring to two books for this series: A Foxfire Christmas: Appalachian Memories and Traditions and Christmas in the Mountains: Southwest Virginia Christmas Customs and Their Origins.

Christmas as it was known here was held back, if that is the right way to say it.  Outside influences and commercialism were slower in taking hold, and many customs dated back hundreds of years.  If you've watched "A Tudor Monastery Farm Christmas" or read Christmas Folk, the customs will seem familiar. They have meshed well with our Waldorf perspective, to be certain, which can seem about as far from Appalachia as one could get.  In reality, it's a perfect match.

The Foxfire book begins with Christmas decorations.  They were found objects, both natural and otherwise, that were collected and reinvented to make things pretty.  Like many with a need and little pocket money, people made what they required, using saved bits of foil or everyday items like popped corn.  They rolled beeswax candles and made others using sand molds.  Strips of paper from catalogs trimmed the trees, along with paper dolls and bits of yarn.  Jean Ritchie offers a wonderful account of her family's first tree here.  We have many folks around here who are wreath makers, and it could be that your tree  or wreath came from our mountains.

The first non-native people to really settle in our Southwest Virginia were immigrants from Scotland, Ireland, the Netherlands, and Germany.  It's fairly easy to find more information on this topic (with a wide range of opinions!), so I won't spend a lot of time on it.  My mother's family, who has been in this area for a good many generations, hailed from the British Isles.

The view of the early Appalachian settler has been one of many stereotypes, but suffice it to say that these people were a hardy lot.  The mountains were considered a sort of hunting grounds before non-native people settled here.  Our hills (called New Appalachia) were steep, the soil was often poor or thin, and the weather varied tremendously, being the last vestiges of glaciation.  They dug in their heels, worked hard, and required few material possessions.  I think that kind of spirit is still at work here.  Each place has its own social ills, and we have our fair share, but we also have plenty of love of place, resourcefulness, and rugged sense of self that make this land a great place to live.
 

Noel

Grim was the world and grey last night:
The moon and stars were fled,
The hall was dark without song or light,
The fires were fallen dead.
The wind in the trees was like to the sea,
And over the mountains’ teeth
It whistled bitter-cold and free,
As a sword leapt from its sheath.

The lord of snows upreared his head;
His mantle long and pale
Upon the bitter blast was spread
And hung o’er hill and dale. 
The world was blind, the boughs were bent,
All ways and paths were wild:
Then the veil of cloud apart was rent,
And here was born a Child.

The ancient dome of heaven sheer
Was pricked with distant light;
A star came shining white and clear
Alone above the night.
In the dale of dark in that hour of birth
One voice on a sudden sang:
Then all the bells in Heaven and Earth
Together at midnight rang.

Mary sang in this world below:
They heard her song arise
O’er mist and over mountain snow
To the walls of Paradise,
And the tongue of many bells was stirred
in Heaven’s towers to ring
When the voice of mortal maid was heard,
That was mother of Heaven’s King.

Glad is the world and fair this night
With stars about its head,
And the hall is filled with laughter and light,
And fires are burning red.
The bells of Paradise now ring
With bells of Christendom,
And Gloria, Gloria we will sing
That God on earth is come.


~J. R. R. Tolkien

Crafting On :: Tying Up Loose Ends

Just in the nick of time, shepherds came to visit the Holy Family.  I made the bodies, heads, and hats last year, but ran out of steam.  I squirreled them away, thinking I could add to Roan's Nativity each year.  It was a great plan!  They are a happy pair.  I used the instructions from The Nature Corner.  We set them out a bit ahead of schedule, since we are expecting company in a couple days.  Roan didn't mind a bit.

Here's the next leaf-edged scarf.  It went beautifully and I definitely have an almost no-brainer formula worked out for making another one for myself.  Some time.  There is still one thing left to make, but I've got time. 

And now, well, time to work on supper.  Happy Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve!  (The children love to say it that way.)

For more crafting, visit Frontier Dreams.

Christmas Memories and Christmas Clicks

We sent out a few cards, our first, and I hope will have a few more in the mail tomorrow.  Willow made this one for our neighbors who just had these two trees (long dead) cut from in front of their home.  It's a memory.  Roan, bless his heart, decorated the envelope with the trees mid-destruction!  He loves a good tree removal, even as his sweet spirit is sad to see it go.  

I picked up a bag of black walnuts yesterday.  The natural world still has a lot to offer, even as it appears to sleep.  Mountain folks have always been good at finding ways to make their living from these hills and fields.  Some friends of ours are selling walnut cakes this year, so we were happy to spend five minutes helping.  Now that we know their plans, we'll be sure to hold out the one hundred gallons (yes, really) that fall right next door.  It warms my heart to hear of people doing traditional things like this, even if I don't enjoy black walnuts. 

I have not forgotten my plans to share Appalachian Christmas customs here.  The problem with sharing holiday ideas, I think, is that they are often ill-timed.  Too early and we are not interested, too late and we feel too rushed.  So, I thought I would share them over the Twelve Days, since most old festivities were centered on that time, anyway.  The book I love most has twelve chapters, so this is just right, I think.  I feel Christmas most strongly, most deeply, and most quietly after the bulk of our population has cast it aside and made their gift returns.

I thought I'd share a few Christmas links today, just little things that we are enjoying listening to and watching.  Forgive me--there is very little schmaltz (or Hallmark) to my Christmas preferences.

A Scottish Christmas :: A great album, all around.  We love Al Petteway.
A Winter's Solstice from Windham Hill:: Mike and I picked up this record for our first Solstice after we married.  I always love listening to it.
December from John Winston:: Another great album, more reflective.  I really love good instrumentals, it seems. ;-)
Traditional Christmas Carols from Pete Seeger :: I really love "Masters in this Hall," and the image of a world turned on its ear.
Wassail! Wassail!  Early American Christmas Music by the Christmas Revels :: I have loved this album since I found it in college.  It includes Jean Ritchie reading Christmas stories from her book The Singing Family of the Cumberlands.
A Child's Christmas in Wales :: A nice recollection of Christmas memories.  Not too far off from the original text, as far as I can tell.  The children have really loved it.  Oh, if we could sing like those dear folks.  We can, but can we be so bold?  We've done various Wassailing efforts over the years.  It makes me want to have caroling become a more firm tradition.
A Christmas Memory :: I read this many times for an academic bowl team I was on.  I still feel the mood.  It was neat to see the story set to life.  I was thinking of it as I collected the walnuts, frozen to the ground.

And with that, I wish you all a wonderful third Sunday of Advent!  It's time for the beasts to gather in anticipation!