Tag: folklore
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Where are all the Holly Berries?
Two years ago, I posted a photo of a holly tree, heavy with bright red berries, a cheerful sight that now belongs to history. That tree has since been unceremoniously axed, part of the grand plan to reduce tree cover on Roseberry Common to a mere 10%. Why? To prevent the Common from succeeding into…
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Robin Hoodâs Bed: Erosion, Myths, and Grouse Shootersâ Wine
Our return journey across the M62 was, unsurprisingly, rather more foggy than the outward. This, coupled with a smidgen of common sense, deterred any whim to revisit Blackstone Edge. Thus, I here is instead another photograph from yesterdayâs wander, of the rock formation bearing the pretentious title of âRobin Hoodâs Bedâ or, to vary the…
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Autumn Leaves and the Forgotten Tradition of Mischief Night
From the village up to Cliff Rigg, the Hall Fields footpath wends its way through this dense copse, and at most times the trees loom rather ominously, as though a scene from some gothic tale. But today they are dressed in the splendour of autumnâs palette. Each leaf, it seems, is vying to display its…
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Bracken, Oaks, and their Folklore
Brackenâour most invasive ground cover, steadily browning itself to perfection. How marvellously it complements this oak woodland on Cockle Scar, on the west-facing slope of Roseberry. Who needs daffodils or bluebells when you can have a decaying fern carpeting your view? And did you know that bracken is charmingly referred to as the âoak fernâ? Apparently,…
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From Drainage to Divination: The Cheshire Stoneâs Secrets
I recently stumbled upon the theory that a stone â the Cheshire, or perhaps the Cheddar Stone as some insist on calling it â perched on on the edge of Urra Moor, has a natural basin which has been carefully modified in prehistoric times by the addition of a notch to channel the water outflow…
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Michaelmas Traditions: From the Devilâs Brambles to Cabbage Wars
One of my favourite sights is the spectacle of a temperature inversion in Bilsdale, when the mist rolls over the Cleveland Hills like a waterfall, spilling into the plain below. Such was the view this morning, on this day of St Michaelâs Feast, or Michaelmas. Michaelmas, celebrated on the 29th of September each year, marks…
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Roseberryâs Witches and the New Myths We Embrace: A Continuum of Credulity
According to the quaint tales of yesteryear, Roseberry Topping was once a preferred haunt of witches. Picture, if you will, three Ayton men, trembling with fright, witnessing a trio of broomstick-riding hags circling the summit and executing some arcane ritual, while sorrowful wails echoed through the night. The villagers, in their infinite wisdom, deduced that…
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Betty Strother: A Yorkshire Witch
Cycling through Danby Park today opened up views of Castleton, perched precariously on the rigg across the Esk Valley. I was reminded of one of those countless lockdown projectsâthose fleeting fancies born of enforced idlenessâwhich, like so many others, has been unceremoniously abandoned to gather dust. This particular project involved the tedious task of transcribing…
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The Capricious Curse of St. Swithin
Meanwhile, St. Swithin has gallantly come to our aid. Well, here in Cleveland at least. His day has passed with the sort of indecision one expects from saints and weather alike: cloudy skies, some sun, but not even the faintest hint of rain. Are we now condemned to forty days of this? If it does…
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The White Maid of Kilton Castle
The British Cycling Championships descended upon East Cleveland today, bringing to mind a project I embarked upon during the days of Covid: transcribing the works of Richard Blakeborough. Among his tales, “The White Maid of Kilton Castle” holds a special place, for it is set in the environs of Brotton, the very spot where I…