Trick or treating Archives

By the end of October, the Earth becomes very still, the season is truly dying, the year turning to winter and a time of rest, renewal and regeneration. The afternoon of Calan Gaeaf was softly grey and damp; clouds enveloped the mountaintops, but the air was utterly still and remarkably mild. Sometimes, this ending of the growing cycle can feel unbearably sad, but not this year which felt remarkably benign and gentle, despite the political and military insanity which is currently engulfing so much of our world.

Twelve of us gathered around the warm hearth in the drawing room, where we briefly opened our circle and invited the Elements, Directions and Ancestors to be present with us – my husband sent out a much-needed call for Peace.

This time of year is closely connected to that of the Welsh crone goddess, Ceridwen, and the magical Cauldron. To help us connect with our own inner cauldrons, I guided everyone on a journey through their chakras (etheric energy centres) and inner three cauldrons of Vocation, Wisdom and Warming which comprise the Celtic chakra system. As always, it was remarkably revealing!

While we journeyed, the homemade elderflower cordial (mixed with a dash of bramble and slices of fresh apple and orange) had been gently heating above the fire. Although using the summer flowers of the elder, this is the tree of the crone. I now shared this out to help revive and ground us, while our youngest, eleven-year old participant worked his way around the circle with a basket of spicey, buttery Soul Cakes, bidding everyone to “Eat, that they may never hunger”.

I had been expecting the youngest local children to begin their Trick or Treating but was still unprepared for the first little ones who arrived at our door. Eustace was sat facing the front door in the hall, ready with his basket brimming with sweeties, a huge grin across his skeletal features – he absolutely loves welcoming the children!

After that, the trickle of tiny tots became a positive deluge of all ages, including older siblings and many parents who were accompanying the youngsters. As dusk fell, and we sat within the shadowy room, recalling our personal ancestors and lighting candles in their memory, the youth of the village began to beat a steady path to our door.

My adopted brother (who didn’t wish to personally participate but had kindly chauffeured his wife to join us) was quietly relaxing by the aga in the living room at the back of the house, coffee in hand with the T.V. remote ready poised. He wasn’t destined to enjoy his ‘down time;’ for long as I needed him to stand as door keeper and answer the many tentative little knocks which were increasingly raining upon it and guide the children over the threshold to Eustace and his goodie basket while we completed our ritual. This he very readily agreed to do, bless him, and continued to take responsibility for throughout the rest of the evening.

By the time we reached the formal conclusion of the ritual, which comprised our New Moon meditation to send out Love and Joy to the world, it was really impossible to concentrate as the air filled with the sounds of excited children’s voices, squeals of pleasurable terror at being confronted by Eustace (who many of the older children now remember and look for from year to year) and the low rumble of my brother’s unfailing encouragement. Finally, giggles broke out around the circle as we all sat listening to the Trick or Treating shenanigans and I realised that we were all sat with huge grins plastered across our faces.

There was a truly innocent but very magical atmosphere being engendered between kindly adults who were more than happy to help facilitate the activity and the youngsters who came wide-eyed with wonder – even the older children were somewhat thrown by all us adults in ‘costumes’ and the way we all entered into the spirit of the occasion. As my darling husband pointed out, the love engendered by the activity was such that it would more than compensate for the loss of our meditation!

Now we all moved outside into the front garden where our lit the fire and we sang the ‘Souling Song’ around its leaping flames, followed by dancing with sparklers and toasting marshmallows, which our second youngest participant had been put in charge of. A bowl of water and towels for apple bobbing was set out and the ‘sticky bun’ was hung in the porch for contestants to try and catch a bite of.

Meanwhile, my son’s partner had been trotting in and out to the aga to bake her delicious cranberry and brie lattice (my brother left in charge of removing it from the oven but forgot as busy with children at door – only slightly blackened at one edge!) and field all the other pans containing soup, veggie stew and chili around the aga top while they were sufficiently heated.

Everyone had brought edible contributions for the feast and we could have fed two or three times the number of people: savoury vol au vents, savoury scones, cheese board, green salad from the garden, and savoury quiche were set out upon the table with all the rest, For desert we had delicious chocolate and coffee muffins, sticky parkin, creamy trifle, toffee apples, fruit cake and date and walnut loaf.

The weather was wonderfully kind, and we all sat out around the fire to eat. There was much laughter and teasing. Every time we noticed a fresh group of hopeful Trick or Treaters hovering by the front gate, we would all call out for them to come on in – many seemed totally bemused that there were more than a dozen people dressed in long clothes filling the garden and joining in with the whole ethos of the occasion.

I met people I rarely see at any other time of the year (we now all move about the village enclosed on four wheels, convenient but isolated) and I was a little stunned to come face to face with parents and grandparents who we originally gave treats to as children when we first arrived in the village nearly forty years ago! Some pumped our hands enthusiastically in greeting while others whisked us into spontaneous hugs – and even strangers appeared to be so overcome by the whole occasion that they also opened their arms wide and enveloped us in heartfelt embraces. (My message of Love appears to be contagious and is definitely spreading!)

Later in the evening my young-at heart thirty-six-year-old son, dressed in his long black cloak and tall green pointed hat went darting through the shadows of our front garden to wait for unsuspecting teenagers to enter our gate – he would then let out an ear-splitting cackle and swirl away up the grass leaving gaggles of girls in fits of shocked laughter and lads leaping about and wondering what had just happened. (Today people need to remember that this celebration was never just about the children – it was for adults, and the themes and activities could sometimes be very dark.)

Later still, we sat around the blazing fire and shared ghost stories – but these were tales which we had all been personally connected to or involved with, so held more potency and resonance.

Finally, it was noticed that our eldest participant (who is nearly eighty years old) was beginning to nod off, so we decided to close for the night. By this time, our eager young visitors had all gone home and the village streets had fallen back into their habitual silence.

After waving the last of our group off down the road, I carefully filled a pretty glass plate with treats which I know will be especially appreciated: local honey spread on crusty home-made brown bread, fingers of creamy yellow cheese, slices of sweet sticky ginger parkin and a golden glass of whiskey. These I laid out beside the glowing embers of the fire for the enjoyment of the Tylwyth Teg (our local Welsh Fair Folk – fairies) to enjoy in peace once the humans had all retreated back inside their dwellings.

The night became darker, the stillness thicker like an invisible cloak, and the silence heavier… others will follow with their own celebrations, but just for now, we humans were done… felines included!

The atmosphere engendered in and around our house and garden last night was nothing short of amazing. All barriers were most certainly down. The powerful emotions of excitement, wonder, joy, friendship, appreciation, co-operation, community and inclusion created a heady formula of enchanting magic – the true magic which humanity excels at if its better nature is allowed free rein and given its head.

Long may we continue to create such peace and harmony within our communities – surely, one day, it will override the cruelty, agony and horror which currently runs unchecked.

For me, personally, this is the sacred message of Calan Gaeaf this year.

We can do it… don’t ever give up!

Days come and go, the seasons turn and we have finally reached the first dark, turbulent days of Winter! Gazing out of my window across the drab khaki-green and brown fields, watching huge purple galleons of clouds majestically sail into view, I wonder what it is about this season which I love so much.

Perhaps it is that I finally get a few days to rest and catch my breath after all the hurly burly of the autumn, culminating in our three day celebration of Calan Gaeaf.

Monday (30th October) was the day we hold our Ancestor’s Dinner, when we gather around our dining table with extra places laid to welcome any shade of family past over who might be around at this special time of the year when the veils thin and loved ones are able to draw closer once more. A hearty meal of chicken pie in thick white savoury gravy accompanied by buttery red cabbage steamed with raisins and apples was followed by spicy Soul Cakes made to a traditional recipe, and numerous cups of freshly brewed Nicaraguan coffee from our local supplier. It is fair to say that I sensed the house to be happily bustling with movement and whispers and my son’s partner, who works from home, was wryly amused when a colleague on a video call asked who was singing in the background – she had been listening to the excited voices of children for some time, although no children have lived here this past thirty years.

The 31st October – Hallowe’en to many – was mainly fun and games for us, out in the darkness of our back garden where visiting children played the traditional games of ‘bobbing for apples’ and chasing the wildly swinging ‘sticky bun’ while we lit a fire and brought out steaming dishes of potato pie and fruit crumbles. Later, after the door had been answered to many excited ‘trick-or-treaters’, we settled around the welcome warmth of the blaze and told stories of the White (headless) Lady and Hwch Ddu Gwta, the tailless black sow who waits for unwary travellers by styles and crossroads (and other liminal places) and carries them off, possibly to be plunged into Ceridwen’s Cauldron… which might not be as bad as it sounds as it is a magical receptacle of rejuvenation and rebirth. More Soul Cakes were consumed as we sang the traditional ‘Souling Song’. Marshmallows were toasted and sparklers were lit as we all joyfully danced in the night with our brave little lights.

The third and final day was Wednesday, the 1st November. In the past, the old Celtic calendar, and many other cultures of the Northern Hemisphere, began their New Year at this time, with the ending of the harvest, the settling into winter and a break from agricultural activity. The shadows thickened as friends and family gathered around our cosy hearth, the candles were lit, and we shared the first afternoon tea of winter – a hearty affair of savoury pies, pastries and sandwiches, followed by crisp thick shortbreads delicately flavoured with lavender and lemon, sticky dark parkin, and other sweet goodies.

We discussed when each of us personally feels that winter begins and the effects it has on us. I understand that some dislike winter intensely and many suffer from S.A.D. as the Solstice darkness begins to close around us. Which leads me back to ponder why I, conversely, love it so wholeheartedly. Perhaps it is because I begin to anticipate all the joyful excitement and celebration of Advent, Midwinter and Christmas soon to come? Or maybe it is because I hold so many wonderful memories of special loving times around the hearth with my family, talking, making, reading, in our shadowy, candlelit kitchen which felt so very safe and secure. On the other hand, I did also chose this time of year to enter into this life, although that is often a traumatic time for both baby and mother and my advent was no exception.

Whatever the reason, the coming of Winter never ceases to thrill me with all its possibilities and potential for cosy times, the plotting of treats and happy events and the general making of magical surprises. As a fairy-godmother-in-training I delight in helping to make wishes and dreams – no matter how large or small – come true.

I sometimes think that the greatest gift I can give to anyone is to invite them to my hearth, enfold them in shadow and soft candleflame, ply them with lovingly-made edible treats and watch them relax, unfurl and awaken to the gentle magical delights of a Winter tea by the fire. Old memories stir within us at such times, and it isn’t simply the province of visiting ancestors – there is something incredibly fundamental about drawing together in shelter and safety around a brightly burning blaze and sharing good food and good company, while the wind howls and the rain lashes outside. It is the oldest communal activity in the history of the human race, and one which triggers memory held deep in our DNA, and a suitably favourable reaction.

Living fire, living flame might not be so common in our homes now, but you might at least consider lighting a candle in this new winter’s darkness and match it with a flame of loving anticipation and appreciation in your heart… you can also use a candle flame to toast marshmallows too!