We’re already at Midsummer and the wheel has turned into the waning half of the year, even though to many of us, it may feel like summer is just getting started. But as of the Solstice, the the days are already getting shorter, and there are plenty of traditions that celebrate that fact. Let’s start in Cornwall.
Find out more at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golowan_Festival
And I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t shout out to a traditional Irish St. John’s Eve Celebration.
Find out more at https://pasttenseblog.wordpress.com/2017/06/23/today-in-festive-history-its-st-johns-eve-for-fire-drink-dancing-and-dreams/
But the main reason I love Midsummer is that right here in Woodstock, the garden is at its zenith. Yes, every season has its pleasures, but how could you go wrong with roses, lilies, and foxgloves at their peaks?
Foxgloves are the ultimate fairy plant so it makes sense that they flourish at Midsummer.
Some stories suggest that the word ‘foxglove’ is merely a misrepresentation of ‘folk’s glove’, i.e. gloves belonging to the little people. This story is echoed in the belief that the mottled spots inside the flowers are actually fairy handprints.
Another says that the gloves do indeed belong to foxes and that fairies gave them to the foxes so they could sneak into the hen house without being heard. Another tale goes that the bell-shaped flowers would make a magical noise when rung and the fairies rang the bells of foxgloves to warn the foxes when a fox hunt was nearby.
Yet another legend explains that because foxglove is sacred to the fairies, it has the power of recognizing them, and it bows in deference to them as they pass by. So if the foxgloves in your beds begin to sway, it is possible the fairies are paying your garden a visit.
The Martagon Lilies outdid themselves this year. CAREFUL, THOUGH! This lily is HIGHLY toxic to cats. One more reason (along with the bears, fishers, raccoons, and baby birds they would try to kill) that we only allow our cats outdoors on the roof deck, where we can keep a careful eye on them.
This honeysuckle growing on our outer fence was a remarkably delicate surprise. Also known as woodbine in old herbals for the way it twists to carve itself into the wood of a tree, giving rise to “dragon wands.”
Oh, yes, did I mention roses? Where to start? How about my favorite rose, if only for the name: Great Maiden’s Blush — which sounds a little like something Commissioner Gordon might say. Or as the French style it more suavely, Cuisse de Nymphe Emue — the thigh of an emotional nymph. (That’s the same plant blushing amidst all those foxgloves above, as well.)
You must be logged in to post a comment.