Week 19
Jack in the Green
Hello! This is our weekly post in which we share something that we have seen/done/eaten that could only happen in THIS week of the year, I tell you mine and then you tell me yours. And I’m going to give you no more preamble than that this week because mine is a bumper one…
Jack-in-the-Green
Jack-in-the-Green dances his way up through Bristol, accompanied by his attendants, stopping and dancing and drinking at various points, dabbing noses with green as they go. As luck would have it he ends his day long parade at the common up by my house, so I can just mosey out of the house at around 4pm on the first Saturday in May and catch a nice bit of pagan stuff playing out.
First of all there is some Morris dancing (this is Pigsty Morris, by the way) and then the leader of ceremonies reads out this poem, the attendants joining in on the final line of each stanza.
Green Man
by William Anderson
Like antlers, like veins of the brain, the birches
Mark patterns of mind on the red winter sky;
‘I am thought of all plants’, says the Green Man,
‘I am thought of all plants’, says he.
The hungry birds harry the last berries of rowan
But white is her bark in the darkness of rain;
‘I rise with the sap’, says the Green Man,
‘I rise with the sap’, says he.
The ashes are clashing their bows like sword-dancers
Their black buds are tracing wild faces in the clouds;
‘I come with the wind’, says the Green Man.
‘I come with the wind’, says he.
The alders are rattling as though ready for battle
Guarding the grove where she waits for her lover;
‘I burn with desire’, says the Green Man,
‘I burn with desire’, says he.
In and out of the yellowing wands of the willow
The pollen-bright bees are plundering the catkins;
‘I am honey of love’, says the Green Man,
‘I am honey of love’, says he.
The hedges of quick are thick with May blossom
As the dancers advance on the leaf-covered King;
‘It’s off with my head’, says the Green Man,
‘It’s off with my head’, says he.
Green Man becomes grown man in flames of the oak
As its crown forms its mask and its leafage his features;
‘I speak through the oak’, says the Green Man,
‘I speak through the oak’, says he.
The holly is flowering as hay fields are rolling
Their gleaming long grasses like waves of the sea;
‘I shine with the sun’, says the Green Man,
‘I shine with the sun’, says he.
The hazels are rocking the cups of their nuts
As the harvesters shout when the last sheaf is cut;
‘I swim with the salmon’, says the Green Man,
‘I swim with the salmon’, says he.
The globes of the grapes are robing with bloom
Like the hazes of autumn, like the Milky Way’s stardust;
‘I am crushed for your drink’, says the Green Man,
‘I am crushed for your drink’, says he.
The aspen drops silver of leaves on earth’s salver
And the poplars shed gold on the young ivy flower heads;
‘I have paid for your pleasure’, says the Green Man,
‘I have paid for your pleasure’, says he.
The reedbeds are flanking in silence the islands
Where meditates Wisdom as she waits and waits;
‘I have kept her secret’, says the Green Man,
‘I have kept her secret’, says he.
The bark of the elder makes whistles for children
To call to the deer as they rove over the snow;
‘I am born in the dark’, says the Green Man,
‘I am born in the dark’, says he.
This is my favourite picture I have ever taken at Jack-in-the-Green. As the ceremony reaches a pitch the local children know what is coming next, and although I started up at the front of the audience, gradually they slipped in in front of me…quiet…waiting…slightly eerie…edging closer…the little savages.
And then Jack-in-the-Green is speared by the leader of the troupe and the audience rush in and rip him apart! So *that’s* what they were waiting for. All very Wicker Man. The idea is that the Jack has to be killed to release the spirit of summer…or something. Though he sort of looks like the embodiment of summer…? Don’t think about it too hard. Just GET YOUR BIT OF GREENERY.
And I did.
That’s it from me except to say that it was publication day my latest book, A Year of Feasting & Festivities, came out yesterday! It is a compilation of recipes and seasonal food from across all of my almanacs and it’s a lovely little thing, as you can see.
Now over to you. What have you seen/done/baked/spotted this week that felt particularly ‘this week of the year’?
Falling asleep in a Berlin hotel room with the window cracked open, I wondered whether the multiple bird calls I could hear were a recording being played to the neighborhood at large for some reason. It took a long time for my sleep deprived brain to figure out that what I was hearing was the first nightingale song I have heard in my life.
Blimey, that Jack in the Green ritual is brutal!