Folklore of the Elder: The Macrocosm Through the Microcosm
Folklore is a passion of mine, as is almost anything relating to folk magic, folk stories, folk songs, you get the idea. They are fascinating, the stories, myths and legends that are passed down through a culture, but what exactly does that have to do with animism, witchcraft and the wheel of the year?
Folklore and stories are passed down through the generations of a culture.
Do not make the mistake of thinking of them as silly old stories mothers told their babes to frighten them into compliance or old wives tales, consigned to the past and viewed with nostalgia of a simpler time.
Oh, no!
Folk stories and folklore contain the shared knowledge of a collective. They may have their regional differences and several versions, but they convey truths and lessons, often hard ones. Folk stories and folklore are not some passive thing but instead form an active part of our lives today (how many films, TV shows and art are based on older stories?) and they do so in a subtle way. Sometimes, it is not until you begin to scratch beneath the surface and explore the lore of the land where you live that you can begin to really gauge just how much such lore is entrenched in our everyday lives. Often the lessons are not obvious, but are instead embedded in imagery and symbolism that allows the listener or reader to interact with the themes and contexts in a meaningful way.
More often than not, these stories and lore encode the history of our ancestors and their relationships with the land and the other beings they shared that space with. In this way, we can learn about the flora and fauna of our localities in terms of our own shared ancestral relationships with them. A good example of this can be seen when we consider the folklore of the elder tree, at least in the UK where I live.
The elder tree was one of the first trees I began working with in a conscious way besides the usual craft and cooking uses, though these have added significantly to my relationship with it.
My garden is filled with trees, shrubs and flowers. Among the massive linden and the beautiful cherry, hiding just behind the ivy, is a small elder tree. I can always remember having a conversation with someone, I don’t recall who, about the effort it took to maintain the garden. “And that one, you want to cut that down, you know. It’s not a real tree, more of a weed.” As well-meaning the sentiment was, it did make me a little angry. Who was to say this little tree wasn’t a proper tree? And why? I don’t know why the reaction was so strong, only it made me feel bad for the tree, and for nature as a whole, and seemed to sum up the ever-growing attitude towards and lack of care about the individual elements that make up nature as a whole.
Anyway, this marked the beginning of my relationship with the elder. I’d seek out recipes to make with the flowers and berries and devour any stories and lore I came across about it. Imagine my delight discovering its associations with witchcraft and magic! The simplest occurrences and events can spark a sudden interest in the land around you, and it’s important to let this guide you. It will allow you to really embed the learning from such lore and stories into your wider understanding of the land, and this will add to and strengthen any relationships formed.
The elder is an interesting tree in terms of the folklore surrounding it and has mixed meaning. Some stories tell of the tree being benevolent and offering protection. In some parts of the UK, it was believed that planting a rowan (mountain ash) by the front of the property and an elder at the back would bring good fortune and ward off the bad. In truth, this may have some credence in the fact that the elder does have fly repelling properties. For much the same reason, bunches of elder were hung in stables and cattle sheds to ward off negativity and evil.
In some places, the elder was also believed to protect from witches and magic and this is where things can get a little confusing because in other lore, the elder was said to be a witch in disguise. To prove said tree was indeed a witch, all one had to do was cut any part of the tree and if it ‘bled’ sap, then it was a witch. One story hailing from Northampton, England tells how a farmer, out with his son, tried to cut a branch from an elder tree to use as a walking stick. However, so much sap leaked out from the cut, they were unable to finish cutting through the branch. On the way home, they saw an old lady who just so happened to have a cut on her arm that wouldn’t stop bleeding.
Witches weren’t always seen as forces of evil, though. One such folk story explains how the standing stones, the Rollright stones in Oxfordshire, England, came to be. A king who was not so kind wanted to become the ruler of the whole of England and so sought advice from a local witch who told him he would indeed be king of the whole of England, but there was of course a condition:
“Seven long strides shalt thou take,
If Long Compton thou can see,
King of England thou shalt be.”
Sounds easy right? Especially when you consider they were almost upon the village of Long Compton. But of course, the cunning witch knew the land and knew that between them and the village was a mound that blocked the view. On the seventh step, she called out:
“As Long Compton thou canst not see,
King of England thou shalt not be.
Rise up stick and rise up stone,
For King of England thou shalt be none.
Thou and thy men hoar stones shall be
And myself an eldern-tree.”
And with that the king and his soldiers were transformed into the standing stones that are still there today, and the witch, as guardian, turned herself into an elder tree.
Perhaps the lore and stories that have spoken to my heart the most though concern the in-dwelling spirit of the tree. In places such as Denmark and in some places in Britain, this spirit is called the Elder Mother, however, in my small patch of the world, she is more commonly referred to as ‘the old girl’ or ‘the old lady’.
These stories helped me to develop an understanding and appreciation of the tree that extends much further than simply being grateful for the gifts it gives us in the form of food and medicine. More than that though, as I wonder in my garden and spot the early spring flowers already beginning to unfurl, the first green leaves of the elder tree, it’s easy to see the whole through the microcosm that is the garden, to gain a sense of perspective in a time when it’s easy to feel small and alone.
EMMA KATHRYN
Emma Kathryn, practises traditional British witchcraft, Vodou and Obeah, a mixture representing her heritage. She lives in the sticks with her family where she reads tarot, practises witchcraft and drink copious amounts of coffee.
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