It’s Michaelmas Day today. Also known as Goose Day. Michaelmas in honour of the Archangel St Michael, patron of seas, ships, boatmen, horses and horsemen, and responsible for hurling Lucifer, that naughty angel, from Heaven straight into a bramble bush. For that reason, we are warned against eating blackberries from herein because upon landing in the aforementioned bramble, Lucifer a.k.a the Devil, spat all over them in a fit of pique. But if you like your blackberries with a serving of Satan spit, please carry on a-picking. Maybe give them a sluice in bleach before eating.
And Goose Day because it is traditional to eat a goose (fattened on the stalks of the recently harvested fields) to celebrate the end of the harvest, the beginning of the winter curfews (some one should tell our government that this is a VERY outdated tradition), and the seeking of new employment. It’s one of the Quarter Days of old, where employees sought new employment positions in the various job markets, and where tenants paid their rents and renewed their tenancies. Apparently, Queen Elizabeth I was eating a goose on this day when she heard news of the defeat of the Spanish Armada, and declared she would eat goose on the same day every year thereafter in celebration. Good old Queenie, eh? Not so good for the goose population, though.
There’s a rhyme, too. Of course there is. All old traditions have a rhyme, don’t they? The Goose Day rhyme goes thusly:
‘Eat a goose on Michaelmas Day, want not for money all the year.’
Doesn’t really rhyme though, does it? And it’s not like there isn’t a wide choice of words to rhyme with ‘day’, either. Sloppy poetry, that’s what I call it. Anyway, go grab yourself a goose for dinner tonight. You never know...
And we’d best batten down the hatches for a chilly Winter if this saying is to be believed...
‘If St Michael brings many acorns, Christmas will cover the fields with snow.’
Have you seen the acorns out there this year? There are gazillions of them! Can’t move for acorns round these parts. There will be some enormously fat jay birds come Springtime, you mark my words. Love acorns, do jays. Andy will be pleased because he likes snow and, because we are surrounded by fields, we shall have plenty of the stuff. I’m not so keen. Pretty to look at but my goodness it makes a mess. And I can’t stand the hysterics that comes with it, either. Here is Andy, in the Great Damson Cottage Snow of 2017...
He’s the one on the right. No idea who the chap on the left is, but he stole one of my carrots.
So, heavy snow for Christmas, then? Talking of which, I did half of my Christmas shopping this morning from the comfort of the Zen Den and via the medium of Internet plus Courier Service equals Job Done. I’ll probably do the other half tomorrow #feelingsmug. I’ve also ordered in enough fuel for the wood burner to last until next April at least. Which, of course, immediately encouraged the sun to emerge...sigh....#sodslaw.
(P.S I shall tackle the aftermath of yesterday’s Important Questions blog once I have recovered from the shock of discovering how many of you don’t like soft boiled eggs. You are all mad.)
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No idea what to buy people for Christmas. I have been looking but inspiration is sadly lacking. I have found several things I’d like though so perhaps I will introduce a new rule: everyone buys their own pressie in pandemic years!