Whether they heal, harbour ghosts or commune with the gods, The Bleeding Tree looks at the trees in our world and in the folklore we create to describe it. I became fascinated with trees that ‘bleed’ whether physical, like the red sap of the El Drago Milenario...
or ‘dragon tree,’ to the more figurative, those that bleed in sorrow, sacrifice or accusation.
Indeed trees can bleed in evidence of crime, as recorded in one of the great New England folk legends collected by the renowned folklorist Charles M. Skinner. Skinner reports on the origin of the Micah Rood apple variety, or ‘Bloody Heart Apple’,
that grows only in the area around Franklin, Connecticut. Unusually for a dark red apple the fruit is sweet, but in the centre of its white flesh lies a blood red core and an even bloodier story.
Micah Hood was by all accounts a lazy and avaricious man, a farmer who didn’t care much for the toil of his trade. One day in 1693 Hood saw a peddler come up the hill, his pack heavy with all sorts of knick-knacks and purse full from the previous village,
to solicit the people of Franklin. But the peddler never made it to the town; he was found the next morning slumped under farmer Hood’s apple tree, wagon empty of wares and pocket of coins, head split in two by a farm axe.
Hood denied everything and managed to talk himself into being acquitted, becoming a recluse. But the townspeople knew his nature and would no longer trade with the supposed murderer among them; Hood’s farm fell into disrepair and the man died in penury.
The tree on Hood’s land from then on grew only blood-stained fruit so that the world would know the truth of the crime. The apple variety was grafted and now grows on many orchards across the county.
Images are from short film The Curse of Micah Rood (dir. Alec Asten, 2008) which you can find on youtube and vimeo.
This gravestone has been on my mind for some time, its inscription so perplexing and sinister: ‘Nameless - Be sure your sin will find you out.’ It stands at an angle in a tiny Wolds village churchyard not far from my Mum’s, and recently I went to find it.
Though the cemetery at St Andrew’s in Irby-upon-Humber is small, the ‘sinner’s grave’ is difficult to spot. Somewhat sunken, it stands not much more than a foot tall and the epitaph is losing its battle with moss. The wording is taken from the book of Numbers (32:23) in which
Moses restates the principle that misdeeds cannot be hidden from God.
Up close the tragedy becomes obvious: this is a child’s grave.
Easter, Passover and the vernal equinox; these spring festivals are not far away and I’ve been reading about The Three Hares Project, which since 2000 has been documenting a distinctive emblem seen across cultures and down the ages.
Its origins, meaning and sheer breadth of reach are as fascinating as they are mysterious.
The project was set up by three researchers: art historian Sue Andrew, cultural environmentalist Dr Tom Greeves, and film-maker and photographer Chris Chapman, as a non-profit aiming to record and research all known occurrences of the three hares motif.
Lighten the dry Jan blues by visiting the Jarramplas Festival, which takes place in Piornal, in the Spanish region of Extremadura every year on 19-20th January. As well as being a sight to behold it is also BYOT (bring your own turnip).
The focus of events is the costumed ‘cattle rustler’ named el Jarrampla, who wears a cloak of multicoloured rags and is adorned with a great horned mask. This villain, played by a lucky volunteer, runs around the 1,200-strong town banging a little drum while local people
throw turnips at him in an attempt to expel his general bad vibes for another year. Two tonnes of turnips if you want the specifics. Next day’s bruises must be about as colourful as the costume.
Earliest man established the sea to be in mysterious commune with the heavens and beyond our power to influence. Leonardo da Vinci thought that the tides to be the breathing motions of a large beast and tried to calculate the size of such a creature’s lungs.
Human imagination populated the world’s oceans with monstrum marinum.
Some, like the mermaid, are familiar and knowable, while others remain inscrutable and of impossible scale, like the legendary Scylla and Charybdis, the six-headed serpent and the great undersea colossus whose maw formed a whirlpool that could devour a ship whole.
The matter of matter; body disposal is not the only option when there are so many preservation methods for those inclined to live fast and leave a pretty corpse.
One Catholic tradition sought to preserve the physical state for as long as possible. These are the ‘incorruptibles,’ like Bernadette Soubirous, a miller’s daughter from Lourdes whose body has lain unravaged by time in a grotto since her death in 1879.
Catholicism has a strong tradition of reliquary; many pilgrimage traditions were created around body parts and bone fragments of dead saints.
Would you eat this - the Christmas eve-eve traditional Cornish stargazy pie? There are many recipes, usually involving potato, and sometimes sand eels, mackerel, herring or dogfish, but to be a true stargazy pie the intact pilchard heads must be placed looking up at the sky,
before going in the oven.
The dish is most associated with the village of Mousehole and its annual celebration on 23rd December, known locally as Tom Bawcock’s eve.