In the days before airplanes, trains, buses, and cars It took longer to get from place to place than it does now, even for intrepid people. The December and June solstices were times of big travel for major celebrations. We’re not sure just what the celebrations consisted of, but people were flexible about when they arrived and how long they stayed. We know something about this from what recent archaeology is showing they left behind.
Even in Medieval England, a time we have quite a bit of writing from, December solstice holidays tended to last from more or less the December solstice (December 21 or 22) to more or less January 6. So relax. Put your feet up. If it’s chilly, an extra pair of socks might be good, like the ones I just put on to write this column!
Today, in traditions that come mainly from northern Europe, Dec 24 and 25, plus Dec. 31 and Jan 1 are the big days of celebration. But we don’t really need the clock or the calendar. Four days or so before Christmas is the shortest day of the year. The newspaper or the internet provide specifics, but looking out the window is a good second. About fifteen days later is Epiphany, or Christmas using more traditional calculations.
What this rally is all about is seasonal change. The day of the year with the fewest hours of sun in the northern hemisphere is December 21 or 22. After that, minute by minute, the amount of sunshine increases, until it is at its maximum around the 21 or 22 of June.
So with your feet up, a warm cup of soup, cup of coffee or tea, a hot toddy or hot buttered run, or Irish whiskey in a cup of coffee, or hot tea and milk with peppery spices, get cozy for a trip back in time.
First to India, where recipes add half an inch of crushed raw ginger and a slit green chili to tea and hot milk. Or from the Himalayas, tea and hot milk with ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, bay leaves, fennel seeds, and black peppercorns. Refreshed with such potions, we are ready to enter an earlier time, say six hundred years ago in England, inland from Liverpool and Manchester, where one of our Pinole Artisans went hiking a couple of summers ago.
But now its winter, cold and wet. Birds sing piteously on bare branches. Wet snow falls. Streams are icy cold. A lone knight on horseback perseveres, not quite knowing where he is, in this weather. He has an appointment with fate, so he keeps on.
All of a sudden, a castle appears. It is as white as the snow, and as full of detailing as if it had been cut from paper to serve as a party decoration at a great feast. He heads for the castle and asks a guard at the gate if there is a place within where he could hear mass on Christmas. The guard at the gate says he thinks he knows a chapel that would serve and the knight, the famous Gawain, enters the castle. And from there, an adventure begins.
The summary in the previous two or three paragraphs is from the 14th century English poem “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.” It was written around the same time that Chaucer was writing in London, but being up around Liverpool, the accent and the language are different. It is a little like the difference between “BBC English” and listening to the Beatles, or anyone else from the general Liverpool area. When it is written rather than spoken, the differences seem more intense.
I have been working on a few translation projects recently and I decided to have a go at summarizing the description of holiday festivities at the court to which Gawain comes before his encounter with the Green Knight.
So take a sip of whatever warm concoction is at your elbow and tell me what you think of the following, remembering that time is flexible.
The king lay at Camelot
Full fifteen days
Of feasting and frolic,
Merriment and music.
Snow lay deep upon the land.
Few creatures stirred,
Fewer still were seen.
Green boughs were brought into the hall,
Branches and berries and holly bobs.
Ivy twined, tendrils extending,
Games and gifts given and received,
Tokens and treasures there in the hall.
These poets, often from what is called an alliterative tradition, used rhyme sparingly, usually to make a point. They loved alliteration — the repetition of consonants, both at the start of words, and in the middles.
Give alliteration a try yourself. It can be fun to see what we come up with! The following four lines include some “accidental alliteration,” for openers.
Even in Medieval England, a time we have quite a bit of writing from, December solstice holidays tended to last from more or less the December solstice (December 21 or 22) to more or less January 6. So relax. Put your feet up. If it’s chilly, an extra pair of socks might be good, like the ones I just put on to write this column!
Today, in traditions that come mainly from northern Europe, Dec 24 and 25, plus Dec. 31 and Jan 1 are the big days of celebration. But we don’t really need the clock or the calendar. Four days or so before Christmas is the shortest day of the year. The newspaper or the internet provide specifics, but looking out the window is a good second. About fifteen days later is Epiphany, or Christmas using more traditional calculations.
What this rally is all about is seasonal change. The day of the year with the fewest hours of sun in the northern hemisphere is December 21 or 22. After that, minute by minute, the amount of sunshine increases, until it is at its maximum around the 21 or 22 of June.
So with your feet up, a warm cup of soup, cup of coffee or tea, a hot toddy or hot buttered run, or Irish whiskey in a cup of coffee, or hot tea and milk with peppery spices, get cozy for a trip back in time.
First to India, where recipes add half an inch of crushed raw ginger and a slit green chili to tea and hot milk. Or from the Himalayas, tea and hot milk with ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, bay leaves, fennel seeds, and black peppercorns. Refreshed with such potions, we are ready to enter an earlier time, say six hundred years ago in England, inland from Liverpool and Manchester, where one of our Pinole Artisans went hiking a couple of summers ago.
But now its winter, cold and wet. Birds sing piteously on bare branches. Wet snow falls. Streams are icy cold. A lone knight on horseback perseveres, not quite knowing where he is, in this weather. He has an appointment with fate, so he keeps on.
All of a sudden, a castle appears. It is as white as the snow, and as full of detailing as if it had been cut from paper to serve as a party decoration at a great feast. He heads for the castle and asks a guard at the gate if there is a place within where he could hear mass on Christmas. The guard at the gate says he thinks he knows a chapel that would serve and the knight, the famous Gawain, enters the castle. And from there, an adventure begins.
The summary in the previous two or three paragraphs is from the 14th century English poem “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.” It was written around the same time that Chaucer was writing in London, but being up around Liverpool, the accent and the language are different. It is a little like the difference between “BBC English” and listening to the Beatles, or anyone else from the general Liverpool area. When it is written rather than spoken, the differences seem more intense.
I have been working on a few translation projects recently and I decided to have a go at summarizing the description of holiday festivities at the court to which Gawain comes before his encounter with the Green Knight.
So take a sip of whatever warm concoction is at your elbow and tell me what you think of the following, remembering that time is flexible.
The king lay at Camelot
Full fifteen days
Of feasting and frolic,
Merriment and music.
Snow lay deep upon the land.
Few creatures stirred,
Fewer still were seen.
Green boughs were brought into the hall,
Branches and berries and holly bobs.
Ivy twined, tendrils extending,
Games and gifts given and received,
Tokens and treasures there in the hall.
These poets, often from what is called an alliterative tradition, used rhyme sparingly, usually to make a point. They loved alliteration — the repetition of consonants, both at the start of words, and in the middles.
Give alliteration a try yourself. It can be fun to see what we come up with! The following four lines include some “accidental alliteration,” for openers.