Category: General

This is a story I wrote based on my travels in 1995 which included an Easter visit to my friend’s family home in Cornwall near Bude. It was such beautiful week spent there and has been memorialized frequently over the years with this old and timeless expression of hope while navigating through turbulent times. Thank you Rob for inviting us to the special place that was your childhood home in Cornwall and to Christine for hosting us with such love and warmth fully inclusive of the candor of local language. 

We walked into the kitchen for breakfast as Christine put the kettle on and peered out the kitchen window at the sky. The spring weather was predictably unpredictable. Pilar and I were laughing about how we’d been caught in sudden downpours of rain nearly every day since we’d arrived in Cornwall.

“We were lucky to even make it back up the stairs from Merlin’s cave, the railing was so slippery and we were so soaked already!” I said. We had burst out into hysterical laughter when that downpour came. Like, of course it would just start raining when it had been clear and sunny only minutes before. It had become our way of dealing with unfortunate and unexpected circumstances. “Murphy’s Law,” we would chant in unison. Cancelled trains, spilled coffee, empty wallets, we would simply shrug, laugh, and regroup.

Just remembering the climb up from the cove nearly made me spit the bite of muesli and milk across the table. Christine smiled as she dropped the teabag into the floral mug and grabbed the milk from the refrigerator. She loved having a houseful again and was enjoying meeting Rob’s friends from California. Since her youngest daughter had left for university in September, she’d been living alone for the first time in her life. Rob lived in London now and had invited Renee and Pilar for Easter week as a part of their big European backpacking trip.

“Ohmigod!” Pilar said, “and when Rob took us on that shortcut across the pasture with the cows grazing; you shoulda seen the look on your face when he climbed the fence with the no trespassing sign and we were meant to follow him.”

“Come on, that’s not fair, this kind of land in California would have electrical fences around it,” I rebutted; then continued, “Yea, but it was totally worth it in the end because we made it to the café for cream tea before it started bucketing.”

“Mmmm,” she said, closing her eyes and recalling the creamy goodness, “that cream tea was the best. I am in love with clotted cream.”

Rob strolled into the kitchen and chimed in, “Cornish clotted cream is the best,” in case we would ever be in doubt about that.

“Good morning,” Christine said as she poured the hot water in the mug. “How’s your granddad?”

“He’s well,” Rob said “He’ll give us a ride to Boscastle tomorrow. I want Renee and Pilar to experience authentic Cornish pasties.”

“He’s so happy you and your sister are home this week. He just loves giving you both rides and showing off Cornwall to your friends.” She spooned out her teabag and added a splash of milk.

As Oasis’ latest single, “Some Might Say” escaped the small speaker of the old kitchen radio, Christine sipped her tea continuing to look out the window while listening to us chat.

Then, she took a deep, satisfying breath and said, “Well, there’s enough blue in the sky for a pair of boys’ trousers. It’s all going to be ok.”

Pilar stopped eating, looked up, and asked, “What do you mean?”

Christine put her cup of tea down on the counter and pointed out toward the horizon where the sea and sky blended into one. “Over there,” she said with delight, “there’s a big patch of blue sky.”

We cautiously started to giggle because we couldn’t make sense of what she was talking about. Blue sky? Boys’ trousers? “But what does that mean?” she repeated.

Christine continued, “It’s an old expression that comes from seagoing weather lore. In many versions, there are sailors’ trousers or Dutchman’s trousers, both of which were the thick and boxy type and often blue. So that patch of sky over there is big enough for some boys’ trousers. It means that, it’s going to be ok and the weather, or the storm as is often the case, will pass.”

“What a funny expression,” I retorted, “but I kind of like it.”

We cleaned up breakfast and headed out for another walk on the coastal path. Today we would stop in and meet Rob’s friend who worked at one of those cafés right along the path. It was so charming how they just put some tables and chairs out from the house and served tea, cold drinks and snacks, usually home-baked goods or packets of crisps. We kept making the mistake of ordering lemonade expecting the California version and getting the British version. It was hard to understand how something with the same name could be so completely different.

When we returned in the afternoon, the blue sky was filling in with clouds. Christine was sitting out in the garden reading. As she noticed our arrival and her expression changed from peaceful to concerned.

“Hi! How was your day?” she asked. She couldn’t hold it in any longer and spilled the news and without hesitation she continued, “Renee, your dad called. Your grandmother is in the hospital again. It’s more serious this time. Your mom, dad, and brother are already heading to Pennsylvania. He will call and update you once they have arrived.”

I felt suddenly deflated. “I thought the surgery had removed the tumor and she was ok now. I don’t understand.” The sky darkened as a big gust of wind passed across the ridge toppling over some of the garden furniture. By now we had learned that a downpour was eminent.

“I’m so sorry. I know this is unexpected news for you. Let’s all go in and I’ll make a fresh pot of tea. You can tell me about your day,” Christine said as she pushed in her chair and gathered her book.

I didn’t sleep well that night. The rain had continued steadily and I had a constant nagging that I should be with my family, that my grandmother was in serious condition and I was so far away. If she didn’t make it, it would be almost impossible for me to go back right now to say good-bye to her.

The next morning, as promised, Rob’s granddad came to collect us. My thoughts were heavy and we all sat quietly for the short ride on the gray, overcast morning. As we came around the bend which exposed the sea into view, Pilar perked up and pointed, “Look Renee,” she encouraged, “there’s enough blue in the sky for a pair of boys’ trousers. It’s all going to be ok.”

I received the good omen and laid my head on her shoulder, “Yes, somehow, it’s going to be ok.”

The days are getting shorter and darker and the trees now stand bare. The streets and neighborhoods are filled with lights and decorations. Everyone is in a flurry of feasts and festivities the entire month of December. It’s fun to indulge in all of the traditions and it’s special because it only comes once per year. While I greatly enjoy all of the fun and merriment, I’ve become interested in where these customs come from and why do we hold onto them so dearly. For many people, it seems that we are drawn to these rituals at a deeper level beyond annual traditions. We anticipate them and they comfort us each year. I’m just skimming the surface of investigating some of the origins of my own holiday traditions, and knowing where they came from makes them even more meaningful as I progress through the month of December. It all starts with the sun and the seasons.

Winter Solstice celebrations traceback to ancient times. Great monuments, structures, and pyramids were built with openings to mark the sun at its lowest point in the cycle. They can be found at Stonehenge in England, Newgrange in Ireland, Tulum in Mexico, and Cerro de Gentil in Peru, just to name a few. These special portals served as a type of calendar to inform the people that the days would be now be getting longer and the sun would return. This was important for survival and managing the deep winter weeks to follow. Solstice festivities included feasts and celebrations that the dark period was complete and that life would be made new again. The deep winter months were known for scarcity of food, so it would be important to take advantage of the feast because there wouldn’t be much to live on in coming months. In preparation for a period of relative hibernation and scarcity, the cattle were slaughtered at this time because there would be no food for them during the cold months. Beer and wine that had been fermenting since spring was finally ready to enjoy. Add in the root vegetables and the remaining harvest of late fall, and this was a time of plenty and it was a matter of survival to partake in the abundance. It’s also important to note that the food supply would have already been limited in the late fall and early winter. The people were most likely hungry and anticipating the slaughter and the feast.

In western cultures with such a central focus on Christmas, the Christian celebration of Jesus’ birth, it can be easy to lose sight of the fact that many traditions that we follow are much older than Christianity and Christmas. These customs have evolved from country to country and family to family, and they are filled of the spirit of our ancestors. It turns out that the Christians chose late December for their celebration because coincided with already existing pagan solstice festivals. As Christianity spread wide and far, it intermingled with local rituals and many were adopted into Christianity. Even the Christmas tree and gift giving came from Pagan traditions that were later reframed in a Christian context.  There’s symbolism about just about everything related to Christmas.

The Yule Log holds such lore that there is a Yule log channel on the television or live stream via the internet on your screen to get the effect. The Yule log was at the center of the solstice festival. It dates to pre-Christian times and appears to have its roots in Germany and Scandinavia. It represents the light and warmth of the sun and and burned continuously throughout the days of the solstice period to bridge the old cycle with the new cycle. The use of candles and lights during the days leading up to solstice were also a custom to represent to light returning after the darkest day of the solstice. Later, the Yule Log and candles became part of Christian Christmas traditions.

Indoor Christmas trees and tree decorating them is said to have begun in Germany in the 16^thcentury. Prior to that, it was a pagan tradition to bring fir and evergreen branches into the home around the solstice period. Evergreen boughs and holly were hung above doors to ward away evil spirits, ghosts, and illnesses. Evergreen was a symbol of everlasting life and was used by the druids, the Vikings, and the Romans. Households of German immigrants to the United States were most likely to have Christmas trees inside the house in the early 19^thcentury. In the UK, very few had Christmas trees until Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, himself a German who insisted on having a tree in their residence, posed for a family portrait around their Christmas tree. This increased its popularity greatly and spread to the United Stated in later decades. Another plant, mistletoe, was a symbol of love and friendship in Norse mythology and traditions of hanging it go back to the ancient druids to bring good luck. At one point it was considered such a pagan tradition that it was banned as a decoration in churches.

The tradition of gift giving dates back to Roman Solstice festivals and giving to those less fortunate. This evolved into Wassailing and even Boxing Day today. Gifts giving became directed toward children in the 19^th century. The period of advent was created to mark a fasting period leading up to the celebration of Christmas. Later Advent Calendars were created later with little gifts each day to countdown the days until December 25. Now they are often filled with chocolate or other sweets and especially popular with children.

Mulled wine travelled with Christianity from the Mediterranean to the northern countries and remains a popular seasonal drink called Glögg in Scandinavia in which spices and fruit simmered with warm red wine.  Christmas cookies became popular once trade routes opened up bringing spices and sugar to Europe. These items were expensive at the time and Christmas was a time to indulge in these exotic treats in the form of cookies and other bakes goods. We are enjoying the same holiday flavors of ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom as were enjoyed during medieval times.

The original meanings of our traditions don’t hold the same weight as they once did. We have electricity which lights our rooms beyond the hours the sun provides light. Many of us are not hungry when the Christmas feast is served and will not be on the brink of starvation during the cold months of winter. We are not cold when we are sipping mulled wine at holiday parties. Yet, we are comforted by these traditions the sense that there is something special about them, something connected to our collective history gives us peace.

As many things, the Christmas and holiday season have become more and more commercial and more and more related to food and feasting. We’ve come a long way from the fasting during advent to eating a treat each day. There’s also a theme of Christmas over the years being more and more geared toward children. I remember Christmas being magical as a child and I enjoyed sharing that magic with my own children when they were small. Now that my own children have grown and myths have been demystified, I want to reconnect with that magic of the season. And it’s so simple, a celebration that the darkest day has arrived and a beginning of a new cycle of increasing light has begun. I will light my candles and hang my wreath as one season bridges into another to create the chapters and cycles of my own life.

(Originally published in December 2018)