From Astronomical Autumn to Soop au Bourgeois
Via Cardigans, Preserving, Butternut Squash, The Devil & Blackberries
Dear Gentle Reader,
I can’t believe it has been three weeks since I wrote to you about the changing seasons. It has though, and a lot has changed between the meteorological and astronomical start of Autumn. I’m a meterological woman myself, I suspect that’s because I love Autumn so much I will happily take any indicator that it has started. For those of you that prefer an astronomical indicator then that is nearly upon us, and only those people who are so desperate to cling to Summer that they insist that October is the start of Autumn will be left in that season.
The Autumn Equinox which will soon be upon us (22 September) is usually a time of transition, not just for those who celebrate it as one of the festivals on the Wheel of the Year, but for everyone. Even if you don’t mark it as a date, or appreciate it for its symmetry (yes I know astronomical clever clogs out there, its not exactly equal night and day everywhere but its only minutes in the big scheme of things), its the time in the Northern Hemisphere where you start deciding whether you need an extra layer.
I was brought up to always have a cardigan and brolly with you at all times, just in case, due to our changeable weather but even I have abandoned that with our much better weather forecasting. I do love a cardigan though and now I’m in my forties I can cheerfully admit this.
So weather-suitable clothing choices aside, what does this transition mean? Well for me it’s another chance, as at Lammas, to try and get closer to the rhythms of the natural world. The person who I would like to be in my head would be preserving, fermenting, making chutney, and pickled onions to mark the change in the season but in actual reality that’s even more of a faff then endlessly making bread.
Also who would eat it all once it was preserved and fermented? Not to mention that I’d have to go out and track down the seasonal produce to preserve and ferment in the first place. So how to find those rhythms then? Well I started small, I bought a butternut squash and made a warm chilli-roasted butternut squash, onion, lentil & feta salad which helped.
Then I made the leftover squash & onions into a pasta sauce with ridiculous amounts of cheese and cream which I ate from a bowl whilst watching the soft evening autumn light change from twilight to full dark night which helped even more.
I’ve even managed to eat the rest of the lentils. I also went for a walk and talked to the London Plane Tree I made friends with in lockdown (its ok, I don’t expect it to talk back). It’s started to lose its leaves again and doesn’t seem in the least bit bothered. As far as the tree is concerned this has been happening for the last 125 plus years so, no drama.
I think that might be what it’s all about. Not just eating butternut squash, I mean, but thoroughly appreciating the last of the abundance nature has given us for this year even if you don’t preserve everything that isn’t nailed down, whilst understanding that she is going to be taking herself back into the earth to recharge ready for next year. That this isn’t the end of something, its just another stage in the endless natural cycle of birth, growth, death & rebirth. I’m just going to buy myself some wellies so I can jump in piles of leaves when they appear and then come home for seasonal vegetable soup as a person of my chronological age probably should.
I think after all of that, you are owed a bit of folklore for light relief. I considered some herbal lore but aside from sensibly harvesting everything that might die off in a frost and either drying them or making syrups out of them I was at a bit of a loss; although you should get the most power from those plants if you harvest them on the New Moon closest to the Equinox which in the UK is 25 September.
Then I remembered blackberries. I used to pick them as a child and my Mum made apple and blackberry jam out of them. Now I can only buy them, and they are almost always a disappointment no matter how glossy they look. These seasonal berries however are folklore gold. They also form the basis of a few historic remedies and star in a couple of stories, so ideal for this letter.
Where shall I start, I think with romance. I wouldn’t put the two together naturally but I was surprised to find that there was a passing connection. Apparently if a woman was out walking with her beloved and her skirt caught on a bramble then the beloved would stay faithful to her. It was also said that if a man on Halloween crept under the long, trailing branches of the bramble, he would see the shadow of the girl he was to marry. They also prevented ill wishing on a newly married couple if the branches were burned in the chamber containing the marriage bed in a sort of spiritual fumigation.
They were used to deter witches if branches were hung from the rafters and a sprig of bramble could be used under or in a milking pail in the same way as rowan to stop milk being tainted or stolen by supernatural means. A good crop of blackberries could be be both good and bad. If they came early they could foretell a good harvest, if at normal time then a good herring season was assured. If however they were late then it foretold a hard winter ahead.
The bramble could also be used still growing in place for various things. Welsh children who were late to walk were passed through them. Being passed through them or under them was a cure for various ailments: to cure boils, you had to find a bramble “growing on two men’s lands”, that is, roots on one man’s land, grown over the hedge, and rooted on the other side, on someone else’s land. The patient had to creep under it three times. Blackheads were treated by crawling nine times round a bramble. To cure whooping cough, a child was passed nine times under and over the blackberry bush, while the following rhyme was recited:
“Under the briar, and over the briar, I wish to leave the chin cough here”
It wasn’t just ill people who were crawling through blackberry bushes though; it was said that if a gambler hid under a bramble, and invoked the devil’s help, he would have luck at cards, no matter what else happened in his life.
It’s probably best if you don’t look into what dreaming about them means. None of it is good. I promised you stories though, didn’t I so hear are couple of very short ones:
“The cormorant was once a wool merchant. He entered into partnership with the bramble and the bat, and they freighted a large ship with wool. She was wrecked, and the firm became bankrupt. Since that disaster the bat skulks about till midnight to avoid his creditors, the cormorant is forever diving into the deep to discover its foundered vessel, while the bramble seizes hold of every passing sheep to make up his loss by stealing the wool.” - The Folk-lore of Plants by T. F. Thiselton-Dyer
The second is a tale which has many variations but essentially when St Michael threw the Devil out of heaven, he landed heavily on a blackberry bush and was scratched to pieces scrambling out so he cursed every bramble forever. It is said that on the anniversary of this day The Devil remembers the insult and takes his revenge by doing something unspeakable with (insert your preferred bodily fluid here) to the blackberries. This is the reason you should never eat blackberries after Michaelmas Day. The jury is out on which Michaelmas Day as there are two due the change to the Gregorian calendar but if you go by the old date then you should avoid picking blackberries after 10 October.
There is another older Cornish story in which a Lord wants a prince to marry his elder daughter but he prefers the younger daughter. There is intervention from a witch and the Prince is told that his love is dead and a blackberry bush grows on her grave. This isn’t the end however as the prince has a wizard of his own to rely on. If you’d like to read a lovely version you can find one here: Mazed Tales
The blackberry bush is also the source of several historic remedies: bramble tips were used for bronchitis by peeling a shoot and eating it when the cough started. Blackberry vinegar was also used as a cough & sore throat treatment, and the decoction of the tips with honey was an old sore throat remedy. Blackberry jam was also used in this way. There are also a lot of medicinal uses for just the bramble leaves, some quite medically sound in view of their high tannin content. Others are more charms than remedies, like this Cornish treatment in cases of scalds and burns: Nine leaves are moistened in spring water, and these are applied to the affected part. While this is being done, the following charm has to be recited three times:
“There came three angels out of the west. One brought fire, and two brought frost; Out fire, in frost;
In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost”
Also, just be aware that if you decide to pick your blackberries, leaves or branches for these remedies that it was also believed that you couldn’t remove a blackberry stain from clothing until the season was over and that a scratch from a bramble wouldn’t fully heal until the bush was burned. Wear gardening gloves and old clothes would be my advice. It’s less trouble.
We haven’t had a vintage recipe for some time so I thought I’d find something seasonal and frugal (times being what they are). Do you think this fits the bill?
It’s from the ever talented Mrs Raffald in her book The Experienced English Housekeeper from 1776. It’s essentially a celery and endive soup with an optional chicken which would make it less frugal. It’s a good way to use up stock anyway but it does make a lot. You could consider halving the recipe. If you want a white soup skip the gravy.
With that, I must bring this letter to a close, gentle reader. Please don’t hesitate to get in touch via the comments or via any of my social media profiles/my website . If you have enjoyed this and would like to read further such nonsense, please don’t hesitate to subscribe for free at the button below. You’d be very welcome and it would be a joy to write to you.