Folklore of Ivy

       This plant brings good luck   fun and happiness, and growing some  over the outside wall of your house will deter misfortune.  If you have a houseplant of ivy and it dies this might  signify that financial problems may be looming.
 Ivy was sacred to Bacchus god of wine and to show that good wine could be found within, innkeepers would hang garlands of ivy around their doors.
Ivy is the emblem of fidelity and it used to be customary to hand a wreath of ivy leaves to newly weds. The bridesmaids would also carry some mixed in with their bouquets as it was believed to  aid fertility and bring good luck. Wands entwined with ivy are still used in nature fertility rites and in spells for love magic. (Not to be ingested)
For a man to dream of his future bride he must  pick a leaf  on the 31st Oct and place it under his pillow.
For a women to dream of her future husband  she must collect some leaves and recite the following:

‘Ivy, Ivy  I love you,

In my bosom I put you,

The first young man who speaks to me

my future husband he shall be’

 If you dream of an ivy plant it may fortel a breakup.

In Shropshire drinking from an ivy cup will cure a child from whooping cough, it will also cure an alcoholic. Placing a trail of ivy leaves across a drunks path will sober him up and bring him to his senses.The use of ivy as a medicine has been known for hundreds of years. One of the earliest 
written document from 900 AD describes the use of ivy twigs being boiled in butter for the relief
of sunburn and the berries were once recommended as a cure for rheumatism. There have been a host of other uses for the plant over the years: wearing a garland of ivy leaves around the head was 
believed to prevent hair loss due to an illness, ivy soaked in vinegar and wrapped around a corn would cure it. And pressing out the juice from the leaves and taking it up the nostrils would help to cure a cold and streaming nose.

Faerie Flora 2013

The Lavender Witch: serialised part 5

‘It’s still a clear night out there,’ he said pulling the bedroom curtains closed. ‘No more hail or boulders falling.’

‘It wasn’t hail.’

 Kitty padded through from the bathroom.

‘You have left all the lights on,’ Gordon complained.

‘I’m going to leave them on.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, I pay enough for the electricity as it is!’

Gordon strode past her to the bathroom and turned out the light then turned off the one on the landing, leaving the hall in darkness except for the light flooding out of the bedroom. As he did so he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall below and glanced down the stairs expecting to see Nero moving about.

 He leant on the banister and called down.  ‘Back in your bed, Nero!’

 Down in the dark well of the hall a pale faced figure stood looking up at him.

 Gordon uttered a muffled yelp and staggered back from the top of the stairs. He stared in horrified amazement, frozen to the spot as the grey clad figure stared intently up at him, keeping her pale eyes fixed on his she gathered her long skirt in one hand and slowly lifted one foot and placed it on the first step.

‘What is it?’

 His gaze just for a minute flicked away from the strange apparition as Kitty called from the bedroom and when he looked back the figure had vanished.

‘There’s somebody down there,’ he called through to her.

There was a thump as Kitty jumped out of the bed and ran out to the landing.

Gordon was peering intently down into the hall.

‘Turn the light on.’

Kitty clicked on all the switches, flooding the stair and the downstairs with light.

‘There was somebody stood there at the bottom of the stairs, I could just see her in the dark staring at me,’ he ran a shaky hand over his chin and shook his head in disbelief.

‘It was a woman?’

Gordon nodded and started slowly down the stairs.

 ‘You’re not going down are you?’ Kitty pulled at his arm in panic.

Gordon shrugged her off. ‘Damn right I am! If somebody is in my house I want to know who it is.’

 He carried on closely followed by Kitty who kept a firm grip on his arm.

Nero came out from the kitchen and wagged his tail.

 ‘Why isn’t he barking?’ Gordon looked puzzled; he turned the lights on in the living room and stared around the empty room, even peering behind the door.

 ‘You didn’t check behind the sofa.’

‘The front door is locked so she didn’t get out this way,’ he said checking the bolt on the door.

There was nobody in the study and the kitchen was empty except for the dog  who had climbed back into his bed and was watching them curiously.

‘This door is locked as well.’

Kitty shivered. ‘Now who’s imagining things?’

‘I didn’t! She was there. I could describe to you in detail what the woman was wearing and what she looked like and if I could I would draw a portrait of her for you!’

 He ran a hand over his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.

‘This is ridiculous! This is a new house, new houses don’t have ghosts.’

‘Perhaps she climbed out one of the windows.’

‘They’re all locked,’ he said. ‘And I would have heard her opening one. I don’t understand this at all, Kitty.’

She folded her arms tightly around her body and shivered.

 ‘So I wasn’t being hysterical then! There is something in this house,’ Kitty pulled at her bottom lip. ‘What are we going to do?’

Gordon sighed and looked around. ‘I think we had better go back to bed, come on,’ he put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug. ‘Sorry I didn’t believe you,’ he said apologetically. ‘I think we’ll leave all the lights on, just for tonight, otherwise we’ll be jumping at all the shadows.’

 Kitty pulled the quilt up and watched Gordon sitting thoughtfully on the edge of the bed.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘Uhhm? What?’

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Nothing,’ he got up and looked out of the window.

‘What is it?’

‘Nothing, go to sleep.’

 Gordon pulled the curtains closed and climbed into bed. He pulled the pillows up behind his head and picked up his book, perched his glasses on his nose and began to read.

‘Are you going to read?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Yep, this is a good book and I want to finish it.’

Kitty curled up in a ball close to his side, the quilt wrapped up around her head. His hand came down and started to gently stroke her head.

 ‘Go to sleep Kitty.’

She didn’t think for a moment that she would but a strange feeling of calm swept over her and she felt herself slowly relaxing and drift off into a deep dreamless sleep.

Tuesday

The next thing she heard was the incessant beeping of the alarm, Gordon didn’t stir, he was still propped up on his pillows, glasses awry on his nose and the book open in his hand.

Kitty reached across him and switched it off.

She brought him a cup of tea a few minutes later but he was still asleep.

‘Gordon, Gordon,’ she poked him on the arm. ‘Wake up.’

‘Hmm...’

‘You’ll be late for work.’

He opened his eyes and yawned. ‘What time is it?’

‘Half seven.’

‘Didn’t hear the alarm,’ he mumbled, rubbing his head.

‘You were out cold, what time did you read until?’

‘Don’t know; it was a good book.’

She picked up the book and looked at it.

 ‘It doesn’t look like you read much, you haven’t finished it.’

 She threw the book back onto the bed next to him and headed for the door.

‘Hurry up, and I’ll make some breakfast.’

Kitty put a plate of toast on the table just as Gordon shambled in yawning.

‘Oh darn my back is stiff.’

‘Sleeping like that I’m not surprised,’ she looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. ‘You had better hurry or you’ll be late for work.’

‘Um, I think I will have the day off, I’ve got some hours owing to me. I know it’s short notice but I’m sure the office can manage without me.’

‘What?’ she said jokingly. ‘They’ll go into meltdown if you’re not there.’

‘They’ll manage,’ he repeated sitting at the table and buttering some toast.

 Kitty sat down in the chair opposite and stared in disbelief. Gordon never had time off except for holidays and was never ill.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘I was thinking last night for a while, about all this, trying to make sense of it.’

‘And?’

‘I couldn’t to be honest, I’m completely baffled. But I do know what I saw and there was somebody or something stood at the bottom of the stairs.’

She said nothing, staring at her husband who for once looked a bit rattled. He usually sailed through life completely calm and in control. Kitty found this to be the most alarming thing of all.

Gordon checked all the windows after breakfast, trying all the locks.

‘All the windows are locked tight, I was going to check them again last night but I didn’t want to wake you.’

‘How long did you stay awake?’

‘Most of the night, I was just thinking, I finally dropped off after four. Every noise made me jump.’

‘It’s strange to see you so spooked.’

‘Is that because I’m a thick skinned male?’ he joked.

‘Yes,’ Kitty replied, wandering back into the kitchen. Nero looked up hopefully.

‘Ah Nero, it’s that time isn’t it?’ she said patting him on the head. ‘I’ll just get ready and then we’ll be off”

‘What? Who are you talking to?’ Gordon quickly followed her into the kitchen.

‘I’m just talking to the dog; he’s waiting for his walk.’

‘We’ll go together,’ Gordon said firmly.

‘But you don’t like walking with me, I’m too slow remember,’

‘Then we’ll have a slow walk. Go on then, go and get your coat.’

‘Where shall we go?’ asked Kitty closing the front door behind them.

‘We’ll walk up the hill and see that cottage.’

‘The cottage? Really?’

‘Yes really, the cottage,’ Gordon slipped his arm through his wife’s. ‘Come on.’

Kitty led the way up the narrow lane to the stile.

 ‘Here’s the footpath I used, the sign is broken though.’

Gordon pushed a few brambles out of the way and picked up the remains of the rotted sign.

‘What does it say?’

‘Castle Hill I think,’ he said, rubbing the moss off the wood. They followed the same route up the hill that Kitty had used on Sunday and up to the copse at the top.

‘Through here,’ Kitty said pointing to the dense bushes, she was feeling a bit nervous after her previous visit but Gordon calmly pushed his way through the brambles to the clearing beyond. There were still a few ragged blooms on the rose bushes even after all the heavy rain and the smell of lavender still hung over the garden.

‘What a beautiful spot,’ he said turning in a full circle. ‘Take those trees down out of the way and what a view it would be.’

‘It’s quite lonely though, up here.’

‘But nice and peaceful,’ said a voice from behind them.

The couple started and turned round.

 ‘Sorry, we didn’t see you there,’ said Gordon.

 It was Mrs Leavenham from the shop, sitting on the remains of the wall, she was well wrapped up against the early morning chill, with a thick coat and a scarf wound around her neck. A small brown cairn terrier sat at her feet.

 ‘It is lovely up here but it’s becoming quite a struggle to get up that hill,’ she said ruefully.

‘We came up to look at the cottage,’ said Gordon.

‘I found it the other day,’ explained Kitty, moving over the rough ground towards her.

‘Well there’s nothing much left of it now, William cleared it all out several years ago, beams floorboards, the lot. I couldn’t see that it was worth much but he said he got a good price from a chap near Ilminster.’

‘What the reclamation yard?’ exclaimed Gordon.

‘That’s the one.’

‘Do you know if there was big wooden fireplace, an old oak one really big?’

‘Well,’ she hesitated. ‘I believe there was one and there was a small cast iron one in the bedroom.’

‘It’s the oak fireplace I’m interested in,’ said Gordon in excitement.

‘That was in the kitchen, they say that was where she made most of her medicines, potions and suchlike.’

‘Medicines? I thought she was supposed to be a witch,’ Kitty said surprised.

‘Oh that’s nonsense,’ said Mrs Leavenham in disgust, curling her lip. ‘I remember my gran telling me she used to come up here all the time, especially when one of the children were ill. There was no chemist to pop into then. She helped Hannah to pick all the herbs.’

‘Herbs? What, from the garden?’

‘Ay, it was her husband’s pride and joy, so my gran said. Spent hours out here he did, now look at it. Still,’ Mrs Leavenham sighed.  ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘I didn’t realise she was married,’ Kitty said in amazement and perched on the wall next to the old woman. ‘She couldn’t have been that horrible then.’

‘No of course she wasn’t, well, she changed after Samuel was killed; she was a good woman but just very sad and lonely.’ Mrs Leavenham said sadly.

‘What happened to him?’ she asked curiously.

‘Well, I was told Samuel was a cripple and couldn’t work much but he used to help his brother with odd jobs on the farm from time to time. They were working on the river bank in one of the lower fields when Samuel slipped into the river and drowned. They found his body in the harbour a few days later.’

‘How dreadful! Couldn’t his brother help him?’ asked Kitty.

‘Well it was said that Robert couldn’t reach him in time.’

‘Robert who?’

‘Why Beamish of course.’

‘What our Mr Beamish’s family?’ asked Kitty in surprise.

‘That’s right, Robert was William’s grandfather and then of course as Hannah and Samuel had no living children when she died the cottage returned to Robert Beamish.’

‘What do you mean Mrs Leavenham?’ asked Kitty perplexed

.‘Their father oh I forget his name, my memory!’ she tapped her forehead in irritation. ‘Well never mind, yes their father gave the cottage to Samuel when he married Hannah. Gran always said there was no love lost between the two brothers, and Robert was furious when he found out.  He didn’t want the property split up; he said the land was his.’

‘Well, well, Mrs Leavenham you are a mine of information,’ said Gordon

‘Well my husband always said I was a gossip and I suppose I am,’ she laughed. ‘But I have lived here all my life and I know most things about the families around here, the stories I could write! Well,’ she pulled her coat around her and stood up. ‘I must be getting on; I have to help in the shop this morning.’

‘We had better be going as well,’ said Gordon

Kitty shivered and stood up. ‘I suppose so and I’m getting chilly. Where’s the dog?’

Nero hadn’t gone far; he had forced himself under the bramble bushes and was trying to dig out one of the rabbit holes.

‘Nero stop that!’

The old woman walked slowly across the garden to the path that Kitty had used.

‘Well goodbye for now,’ she said looking at Kitty.’ I’m sure we’ll bump into each other soon,’ waved and started to walk carefully down the rough path.

‘Come on then let’s get going,’ Gordon pushed his way back through the bramble bushes. ‘We’ll go back the same way.’

Kitty quickly followed not wanting to be left alone.

‘As soon as we get home I’m going to ring the yard and see if he can remember anything about the fireplace,’ said Gordon.

‘Do you think it’s the same one?’

‘Well perhaps, it’s a start anyway and it might explain why she is in our house.’

‘So the witch is haunting our fireplace, isn’t that a bit ridiculous?’Kitty half laughed.

‘Of course it is, this whole thing is ridiculous, but let’s just keep an open mind shall we?’

‘It sounds like Mr Beamish is struggling for money,’ Kitty climbed over the stile and paused to get her breath. ‘He has a rather interesting family history but I don’t see what that has to do with us.’

Gordon walked on quickly down the field to the stile. ‘Maybe we will find out. Come on.’

‘What happened to the slow walk?’

‘I want to phone the reclamation yard so hurry up.

Gordon wasn’t on the phone long but Kitty couldn’t catch much of the conversation as he had shut the kitchen door, after straining to hear for a while she gave up, shrugged her shoulders and started to make some tea.

The door opened and he came in looking very pleased with himself.

 ‘Well I was right, the fireplace did come from Hannah’s cottage and you’ll never guess what else they found!’

‘A dead body?’

‘No!’ he said impatiently ‘There was a dried up bulls heart up the chimney, stuck all over with nails.’

Kitty looked blankly at him. ‘What?’

 She put two mugs of tea on the table and pulled out a chair.

‘It’s quite common to find things like that stuck in chimneys, under floorboards. Old bottles filled with pins, skulls, old shoes.’

‘What are you talking about Gordon?’

He picked up a mug. ‘It’s all to do with witchcraft.’

Gordon walked over to the sink, stared out of the window into the garden and sipped thoughtfully at the tea.

‘So she was a witch then?’ queried Kitty.

‘No I don’t think so, these sort of things were used a protection against evil spirits and witchcraft.’

‘Well she was supposed to have been taken by the devil; perhaps she was trying to protect herself against Old Nick.’

Kitty wrapped her hands around the hot mug of tea and watched Gordon staring thoughtfully outside.

‘Shall we take the fireplace out?’

‘No,’ he said crossly. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of this. Let me get my laptop and we’ll see what we can find out about Hannah.’

‘How?’

‘Newspaper reports or local records; if she’s as famous as the chap from the pub made out there’s bound to be some information on her.’

Gordon brought in his computer and opened it.

‘Now let’s see what we can find, I’ll just Google her name first and see if anything comes up.’

He tapped away for a few minutes. ‘Ahh! Here we are.’

Kitty pulled her chair around the table next to Gordon and started to read.

Transactions of the Devonshire Association

About one hundred and ten years ago at a place called Medbury there lived a witch called Hannah Beamish. She was reputed to possess great powers and could turn herself into a hare when desired and the Cotley Harriers were often supposed to have hunted her across the county.

At that time a well to do Farmer Mr........... lived at Medbury, his family was prosperous and well thought of in the local area.

Hannah would often visit the farm of Mr ............ begging for food and sometimes for money. For a while she was given what she asked for but then Mr......... protested that it became too much and she was refused.  A young girl of eleven who was in the service of Mr.........was often a visitor to Hannah’s cottage and became great friends with the witch. She would often take Hannah food even though the master forbade it.

The farmer complained bitterly that this was the beginning of his trouble. The milk would not set, the butter could not be made, bread put to bake only ran about the oven. His livestock suffered as well, sheep died of a strange sickness sometimes as many as ten in a day. A horse that Mr............ was going to sell was strangely blinded in one eye and so could not be sold.

Mr.......... said that with one thing and another he was nigh to being ruined. So he brought in a white witch from Chard. This man stayed for a month in the farmhouse while he worked to bring down the witch who was the strongest and ‘runkest’ he ever knew.

A large crock of water into which he had put a large quantity of barley was kept boiling all the time he was in the house. He also ordered six bullocks hearts to be hung in the fireplace, these were stuck all over with pins and nails. They slowly melted in the flames and it was believed that the witch’s heart was to be melted too.

The white witch was sure that this would have broken Hannah’s powers and at four in the morning went towards her cottage. This was Good Friday morning. He found the window broken and looking about he saw high above him in a tree lying on a branch the witch wound in a sheet. There she was left for the village folk and the servants to see. The tree was cut down as she was too high to be got at and as the tree fell the witch fell into a gully. Hannah’s flesh was much torn and a great round bruise was found on the side of her temple, it was said in the shape of a cloven hoof.

Inside the cottage there was blood smeared about and broken glass on the floor. This was caused, so they said, by Hannah struggling with the devil who pulled her through the window.

The corpse was visited by scores of people from all parts and then buried at a crossroads between Medbury and Axminster. It was said that no horse could pass the spot without shying.

The white witch was paid one hundred pounds for his work.

The inquest on the death of Hannah was held at Axminster on April 12^th 1841, the verdict was returned of ‘water on the brain’. An impassioned plea by the servant girl that Hannah had been murdered was ignored by the Coroner Mr Edmund Foulstone, due to the youth and emotional state of the young girl. She declared that she had witnessed Mr........threatening to kill Hannah and that she knew Hannah to be no witch. This evidence was struck from the records.

Hannah Beamish became the most famous witch in East Devon. The manner of her death suggests that the devil must have been extremely angered that she had been bested by the white witch.

Gordon and Kitty sat silent and stunned.

‘Well,’ said Gordon slowly. ‘I can’t believe this, after finding blood and glass in the cottage, the body hanging in a tree and it’s put down as water on the brain.’

‘What is water on the brain?’

‘No idea, but whatever it is, it certainly wouldn’t account for her death like this,’

‘How could a death like that be anything but murder?’

‘A hundred pounds was lot of money then, enough to murder somebody,’ Gordon said thoughtfully, rereading the article.

‘I wonder who the servant girl was.’ Kitty said.

‘Let’s see if we can find out, I’ll just save this and I can print it out later.’

 He rummaged in his laptop bag for a memory stick.

‘Hey! I’ve just had a thought,’ Kitty said excitedly. ‘You don’t suppose that the servant girl was Mrs Leavenham’s grandmother?’

‘I wonder?’ he looked at her thoughtfully and smiled. ‘You know you can be quite bright sometimes.’

‘Oh thanks dear, you’re too kind,’ she grinned at him. ‘Can we ask her? She would know if it was her grandmother. I bet she would know who the farmer was as well, Mrs Leavenham seems to know everything about this village.’

Gordon started tapping on his keys again.

 ‘Let’s see what else we can find. I will put in newspaper reports and her name and we’ll see what come up.’

He tapped away for few minutes and suddenly pointed at the screen.

 ‘Hey look at this; we’re really hitting the jackpot today! It’s a newspaper report about Samuel’s death.’

The Seaton Chronicle

14^th March 1840

The tragic death of Samuel John Beamish second son of Joseph Beamish of Castle Farm, Medbury, Devon occurred on the 14th day of March 1840. The late Samuel Beamish was drowned after falling into the River Axe. Samuel had been working with his brother Robert Beamish making repairs to the fence bordering the river and had slipped while working and had fallen into the water. His brother Robert had been unable to reach him and Samuel was swept away. His body was found on the 16^th of March in the harbour at Seaton by Mr Abraham Tulley, Harbour Master.

The remains of Samuel Beamish were laid to rest at the church of St John the Baptist Medbury.

The Coroner Mr Edward Foulstone recorded death by misadventure at the Inquest held at Axminster 20^th April 1840.

Gordon stared pensively at the wall.

 ‘I think I will go and see if Mr Beamish is about and see what he can tell us about Hannah.’

Kitty stood up from the table, ‘I’m coming as well,’ she said firmly.

‘You don’t have to; you can stay here as you don’t like him.’

‘I’m not staying here on my own and anyway I want to hear what he has to say, and you won’t tell me everything.’

‘Just because I don’t repeat every single word of a conversation, I’ll distil it and give you the essence.’

‘But you always miss out the interesting bits,’ she complained.

Gordon stared at her and hesitated. ‘I don’t know though, perhaps it would be better to go and see Mrs Leavenham first, see if we can find out the name of the servant girl and the farmer.’

Gordon slipped the lead over Nero’s head and pulled him to the side of the lane as a car drove slowly up the hill but the vehicle turned into the farmyard before it reached them. A young woman who had a striking resemblance to Mrs Leavenham raised her hand in greeting at the couple as she pulled off the road.

A fine drizzle started to fall wetting the tarmac. Kitty pulled up the hood on her coat and zipped it up against the rain and hurried down the lane after Gordon.

The village was deserted, their footsteps echoing off the walls of the cottages as they walked through the narrow street to the shop. It was closed, the sign on the door declared that it was half day closing.

‘Damn,’ said Gordon. ‘She must live in the village, if we see anybody we could ask.’

‘Or we could look in the phone book and ring.’

Gordon stared moodily at the locked door for a moment. ‘Oh well,’ he said and turned pulling the dog to heel. ‘That’s a shame; I really wanted to talk to her.’

Kitty walked out into the middle of the street and looked up and down.

 ‘There’s nobody about today and it’s no good asking in the pub, they wouldn’t know.’

‘Perhaps she is in there having a pint.’

‘I can’t see her perched on a bar stool can you?’

They walked back through the village and up the hill, the rain had become heavier and little rivulets of water ran down the side of the lane carrying the fast falling leaves of autumn.

A horse and rider appeared out of the farm entrance, they recognised her as the young woman from earlier. She waved and turned left and rode up the lane past their house, the hoof beats quickening into a trot.

‘Perhaps he’s not in,’ Kitty said as they walked into the farmyard.

‘He’s in,’ Gordon pointed to the house where he could see Mr Beamish opening one of the lower floor windows.

 ‘Hello there,’ he called. ‘Everything okay?’

The Folklore of Bramble

To harm the bramble bush is forbidden as it belongs to the faerie folk and the first berries of the season  must be left for them. If you do not, then any following fruit that you pick will be rotten and full of maggots.
Even the ancient Celts believed it to be sacred; for them the fruit represented the three aspects of the Goddess: maiden, mother, crone. As the berries changed from white to red then black they believed this signified birth, life and death and the seeds of the fruit were the promise of spring and rebirth.

To keep off evil spirits, pick bramble at the full moon and make a wreath, including rowan and ivy. Then hang over the doors to your house; this will also protect the inhabitants against evil spells. This belief in the protective qualities of bramble led them to being planted around fresh graves to protect loved ones against evil, although in some areas it was believed that this would stop the dead rising and returning as ghosts.
If you are troubled by vampires either plant a bramble near to your house or place the berries on the threshold. The vampire will obsessively count the berries and thorns until the first light of day when he will have to depart.

There is a traditional rhyme that goes...

‘There was a man in our town,

And he was wondrous wise,

He jumped into a bramble bush,

And scratched out both his eyes....

And when he saw what he had done,

With all his might and main

He jumped into the bramble bush,

And scratched them back again!’

Crawling under the arch of a bramble bush which has formed a second root will cure rheumatism, boils etc. If a child suffers from whooping cough pass it through the arch seven times while chanting:

‘In bramble , out cough,

here I leave the whooping cough’

Eating the fruit will also help these ailments but remember not to eat them after 10th Oct, Devil Blackberry Day, as the Devil spits on them.
When the Devil was kicked out of heaven he fell into a blackberry bush and has hated them ever since.
Imps and elves inhabit the bushes and will catch you hair and clothes in the thorns when you
try to pick the fruit.

 Bramble leaves can be used with a healing spell for the treatment of burns: dip nine leaves in running water and lay them on the affected area, say to each leaf as you apply it ‘Three ladies came from the east, one with fire and two with frost, out with fire and in with frost’
Or alternatively bruise a handful of fresh leaves and apply to the burn. This can be used for piles, skin ulcers and eczema as well.
A decoction of the leaves can be used for sore throats and if you would like a natural mouth wash it can also be used for this.
The juice of the berries mixed with the juice of mulberries binds the stomach in cases of diarrhoea, helps sores and ulcers and is good for piles.
The leaves boiled in lye and used to wash the scalp relieves an itchy scalp and makes the hair black.


'Faerie Flora' 2013

The Hedley Kow, a bogle

The Hedley Kow is a bogle from Northumberland who delights in making a nuisance of himself by putting machinery out of order, knocking over cooking pots and unravelling knitting but his favourite pastime is carrying out practical jokes.
There is an old story of a poor woman who managed to scratch a living by doing chores on the neighbouring farms. She was on her way home after a long day when she spied a big black pot at the side of the road.
'Now that' she said 'Would do for me if only I had something to put in it.' She looked around to see if she could see it's owner but seeing no one picked it up. Exclaiming at the weight she lifted the lid.
'Mercy me! she cried out. 'If it isn't brim full of gold pieces.'
She could do nothing for several minutes but admire the gold and plan how she was going to get it home. So the old woman fastened the end of her shawl to the pot and dragged it behind her down the road.
All the while she chuckled to herself , telling herself how lucky she was and planning on what to do with the gold. By and by the old women got tired of pulling the heavy weight behind her and stopped to rest, glancing behind her to make sure her treasure was safe she was astounded to see that the pot of gold had disappeared and in it's place was a lump of shining silver! She stared and rubbed her eyes for a while then congratulated herself that the silver would be less trouble to look after.
So the old woman went on her way again, congratulating herself on her luck and planning on what to buy with the silver. But it wasn't long before she began to tire again and had to stop and rest. Again she turned to check on her treasure and as soon as she set eyes on it cried out in astonishment.
'Oh my!' she said 'Now it's a lump of iron. Well that beats all and it's just real convenient. I can sell the iron much easier than the silver and gold and get lots of penny pieces for it!'
So on she trotted still feeling very pleased with her luck until she glanced over her shoulder.
'Eh my!,' she said 'If it hasn't gone and turned into a gurt big stone! Well isn't that a piece of luck, I was looking for something to prop my door open with.'
The old woman hurried home dragging the gurt big stone behind her until at last she reached her front door. She bent to unfasten the shawl from the stone when all of a sudden it gave a jump and a squeal and grew until it was a large as a horse. Four lanky legs sprouted from it's body and from it's head popped out two long ears, it flourished it's tail at the old woman and ran off kicking it's hooves into the air while laughing like a naughty schoolboy.
She stared openmouthed until it had disappeared from view.
'WELL!' she said at last. 'I do be the luckiest body hereabouts. Fancy me seeing the Hedley Kow all to myself and making so free with it. I can tell you I do feel that grand!' And she spent the rest of the evening congratulating herself on her good fortune!

The Lavender Witch: serialised part 4

Monday

‘You look terrible this morning.’

Kitty looked at her husband in disgust. ‘Thank you, you say the nicest things.’

 She cupped a hot cup of coffee in her hands and pulled her thick dressing gown closer around her, she shivered and pulled a tissue out of the pocket and blew her nose.

‘Aren’t you feeling well?’

‘No, I’ve got a headache and I was coughing all night. So I didn’t keep you awake then?’

‘No,’ Gordon carried on eating his breakfast.

Kitty stood up from the table and started rummaging in one of the kitchen cupboards looking for the first aid box and opened it.

‘I can’t remember if we’ve got any cold capsules, perhaps I can get some at the shop.’

Gordon stood up and carried his plate and cup over to the sink. ‘I can pick up some later for you on the way back from work.’

Kitty nodded at him. ‘Leave that, I’ll do it in a minute.’

Gordon kissed the top of her head ‘Okay, I’d better get going or I’ll be late, ring me if you do want me to pick anything up.’

Kitty sat at the table with a cup of tea, outside the sun was shining and it made the events of last night seem unreal but while she tried to dismiss it Kitty could still feel the touch of those fingers on her shoulder and she shivered.

She stared out the window into the garden, the apple trees still had one or two shrivelled little apples clinging to their branches. The leaves were falling fast now and were blowing around the garden in the slight breeze.

Perhaps I’ll have a bonfire later, she thought. And clear all those up.

Kitty pushed the chair back and sneezed. ‘Oh bless me! I think I will walk down to the shop and see if I can get something for this cold.’

Although it was a lovely morning there was a nip to the air and Kitty was glad that she had wrapped up in a thick coat. Nero was on a lead this morning as there were a few cars about, probably on their way to work.

A few late sprigs of honeysuckle were still growing in the hedge and Kitty picked one and tucked it into a buttonhole.

Apart from the cars Kitty had the lane to herself and she enjoyed the walk to the shop, the fresh air was helping to clear her headache and by the time she had reached the bottom of the hill it had all but disappeared.

Kitty pushed open the shop door, leaving Nero tied up outside, the dog whined and pulled at his lead.

 ‘Oh shush... I won’t be long,’ she reassured him.

‘Good morning,’ Mrs Leavenham was stood behind the counter unpacking some boxes; she looked up and smiled when Kitty opened the door. ‘Isn’t it a lovely morning after all that rain?’

‘What a storm!’

‘I hope you didn’t get wet yesterday, I saw you walk past the shop.’

‘I made it back home just in time, I walked to the top of the hill; it’s quite a view from up there.’

‘It certainly is, now what can I get you?’

‘Have you got any cold remedies? I was coughing and sneezing all night and I can’t bear having a cold.’

‘Well now, I’ve got the usual, throat lozenges or there’s this, it’s called Honey Linctus. It’s locally made, wonderful stuff, I always use it.’

Mrs Leavenham handed over a bottle filled with a thick brown liquid.

‘It looks disgusting,’ Kitty picked up the bottle and peered at its contents doubtfully.

‘I know, it tastes disgusting as well so be warned,’ she smiled. ‘But we all use it. Last year when we had that flu I ran out and couldn’t get any for weeks.’

‘Who makes it?’

‘Oh, it’s a local chap, he used to have a pharmacy in Seaton, everybody has the recipe but he makes it up for us.’

Mrs Leavenham wrapped the bottle in a paper bag. ‘I’ll wrap it as the bottle is a bit sticky, this will help, I promise.’

‘Well I’ll give it a go then, how much is it?’

‘Two pounds fifty, dear. It’s been used for years around here. The recipe came originally from a woman in the village; she was the local midwife and was very good with herbs and suchlike. Here’s your change, now how are you settling in?’

 Mrs Leavenham looked at her intently, head on one side.

‘Oh, okay I think, I suppose it will take time to get used to being in a new place,’ Kitty hesitated. ‘I keep hearing strange noises in the house.’ She suddenly felt very silly admitting to it and wished she had said nothing.

‘Oh don’t you worry, my daughter had the same thing when she moved into a new house in Axminster. She was convinced that the house was haunted.’ Mrs Leavenham laughed ‘It was just the house settling, I expect that’s what you can hear.’

‘Perhaps that’s it,’ Kitty said doubtfully, she hesitated but decided to let the subject drop. ‘Well thanks for this,’ she raised the bottle. ‘I’d better be going, still loads to do.’

She closed the door and untied the dog.  ‘Come on let’s go home.’

 Kitty waved through the shop window at the old woman who was watching her with a slight frown on her face from behind the counter, she smiled briefly in response before turning back to the boxes.

Kitty spent the rest of the morning unpacking the cardboard boxes in the utility room, most of it went in the garage as it was the contents of Gordon’s shed from their previous home. She squashed the empty boxes flat and piled them on the grass at the end of the garden meaning to have a bonfire.

She was just heading off to find the rake in the garage when she became aware of a figure on the other side of the wall.

 Kitty turned. ‘Oh Mr Beamish, hello.’

He stood leaning against the stone wall staring at her, his work hardened hands clenched over the rough stones.

‘How are you?’ she asked. ‘I was just going to have a bonfire, get rid of these boxes and all the leaves need clearing.’

He didn’t answer and Kitty was suddenly worried.

‘This isn’t going to annoy you is it? If I have a fire?’

He remained silent and Kitty was surprised by the strange intensity of his stare. Feeling very uncomfortable under his scrutiny and unsure of what to say next she turned and walked down the path to the house.

‘Well, I’ll get on then Mr Beamish, nice to see you’

Kitty opened the side door to the garage and glanced back up the garden, but he had disappeared and she felt strangely relieved.

The rake was in a clutter of tools at the back, she pulled it out, reluctant to go back outside. She hesitated and peeped out the half open door.

Kitty chided herself. ‘For goodness sake what is wrong with you, you daft old woman.’

She spent the next hour steadily raking the grass and by the time she had finished had piled a huge pile of twigs and leaves on top of the cardboard. Kitty kept her head lowered as she worked unwilling to look up in case Mr Beamish had returned.

‘Now I need some matches,’ she said to herself walking to the house.

Opening the back door warm scented air met her as she entered the kitchen.

 ‘There you are dog, didn’t you want to help me in the garden then?’ She reached down and patted Nero’s head; he looked up, wagged his tail and yawned. ‘Lazy dog,’ she yawned as well. ‘Oh dear, I’ll have a cup of tea and sit down for a minute before I light the bonfire’

Kitty put the kettle on, pulled out a chair and sat down with a sigh. She suddenly felt very tired and yawned again.

‘Maybe I will leave the bonfire until later. What do you think dog?’ she asked fondling his ears. Nero just yawned and snuggled his head down into the box.

 It was beginning to get dark and Kitty felt quite chilled sitting at the table even with a hot cup of tea. She sneezed again and decided it was time to change into something warmer. After changing into a pair of thick cords and a warm jumper she hobbled stiffly back down the stairs, passing the front room door Kitty had a sudden urge to light the fire. The fireplace hadn’t been used yet and Gordon was looking forward to the weather getting colder so that they would have an excuse to use it. As Kitty was still feeling cold she decided it would be a good opportunity to try it out, the prospect of sitting in front of an open fire would be rather welcome for a while.

Gordon had the kindling all ready piled up next to the grate and the log basket was full.

Kitty scrumpled up a newspaper and put in on the grate and was just putting on the kindling when the phone rang. Easing herself up as her knees were stiff from her afternoon in the garden she hobbled into the hall hoping to get to the phone before it stopped ringing.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi dear it’s me, just checking to see if you still want some shopping.’

‘No thanks, it’s okay, I bought some local potion from Mrs Leavenham, she swears by it, God knows what it’s in it though. It tastes disgusting.’

‘Bat’s blood and eye of newt. Who knows? I will be home in about 10 minutes, see you. Kitty? Are you still there? Kitty!’

 She didn’t answer; she had taken the phone away from her ear and was staring back into the living room.

Kitty lifted the phone again. ‘Gordon, the fire’s lit.’

‘That’s nice dear.’

‘No, it’s not, I didn’t light it, I was just laying the fire when you rang.’

‘You probably did it without realising; you know what your memory is like.’

‘I didn’t light it Gordon there aren’t any matches in there so I couldn’t have!’ Her voice rose.

‘Kitty calm down, I’ll be home in ten minutes.’

There was a click as Gordon put the phone down and a constant buzzing sound as Kitty stood in the hall with the phone still held to her ear. In the living room the fire blazed, the kindling popping and crackling was burning down quickly. The fire needed  feeding but Kitty hesitated before entering the room, as she stood in the hall she became aware of movement in Gordon’s chair near the fireplace.

The phone clattered to the floor.

The chair had been pulled up in front of the fire, the back facing the door. Unable to see the occupant of the chair she edged into the room grasping the door frame to stop herself from shaking. From the chair an arm stretched out, grasped a log and placed it into the flames.

Kitty drew a strangled breath and backed slowly out of the room into the hall. The fire irons clattered on the hearth, the noise spurring her into action and she dashed into the kitchen and slammed the door behind her. Leaning against it she gazed wildly around the room and lit on the block of kitchen knives sitting on the worktop. Kitty leapt forward and pulled the largest carving knife out of the slot, with her other hand she dragged one of the kitchen chairs over to the door and jammed it under the handle and then sat on it.

Kitty gripped the knife tightly trying to stop her hands shaking but after while her knuckles began to ache where she was holding it so tight. She forced herself to let go of the knife and balance it on her knees while she shakily massaged her hands. Outside in the hall it was quiet but she could still hear the fire popping as the kindling burnt, no other sound came from the living room and Kitty’s breathing was just getting beginning to slow when she heard the sound of the hearth being swept. Kitty jumped, the clatter of the knife falling to the floor made Nero start, he rested his head on the side of the dog box and looked at her sleepily.

‘You’re some guard dog Nero!’ she whispered frantically.

The kitchen clock ticked on slowly as she watched the hands creeping around the face. Kitty strained to hear the car pulling into the drive and for an awful minute thought that perhaps he had stopped at the supermarket. She was just considering running out the back door when she heard Gordon’s car. The front door banged open.

 ‘Kitty, Kitty where are you?’

She dragged the chair away from the door and opened it. ‘Gordon! Why were you so long?’

Kitty rushed towards him forgetting that she was still holding the carving knife. Gordon jumped back.

 ‘Wow! What are you doing with that?’ and put up an arm to fend her off.

‘There’s somebody in the living room Gordon.’

He stared at her in amazement. ‘What are you talking about?’ He walked into the room.  ‘There’s nobody here, look,’ he swung around and pulled her into the room. ‘Look it’s empty.’

Kitty stared around the room nervously. ‘But I didn’t light the fire and I saw somebody in here.’

‘Well, the fire is going a treat now,’ he said wearily.

 The fire was burning well, several logs had been piled on and a few lumps of coal had been placed on the flames. The room was already warm, the smell of wood smoke mingling with the fragrance of lavender.

‘I’ve been shut in the kitchen since you rang; I was too frightened to come back in here.’

‘Well you must have done it, I don’t know what’s wrong you at the moment. Perhaps you should go and see the doctor. Maybe it’s the stress from the move, or something?’

 He looked worried, running his hand over his hair.

‘It’s not stress,’ her voice trembled as she stared blankly around the empty room.

Gordon took the knife from her hand and walked into the kitchen throwing it onto the table.

‘Oh calm down Kitty, I’m sure there is a logical explanation.’

‘What! I’ve just told you there was somebody in the house and you’re treating me as though I was nuts.’

‘Oh for God’s sake Katherine,’ he exploded. ‘I’ve had a hard day at work and I have to come home to this!’ He shoved the chair back under the table scraping it along the tiled floor.

‘I think you should make an appointment tomorrow and get something for your nerves.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my nerves,’ she shouted at him.

 Gordon pushed past her not bothering to answer and headed for the stairs. Kitty slumped down in a chair and rested her head in her hands. Upstairs drawers were being dragged open and banged shut as Gordon changed out of his suit. It was strange how Kitty could always tell how annoyed Gordon was by the way he opened the drawers in the bedroom.

Kitty pulled off a piece of kitchen roll and blew her nose. There was a movement at the door, she jumped and looked up. Gordon was standing in the doorway looking apologetic.

‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m okay,’ she said gruffly and sneezed. ‘Oh bother.’

‘Did you say you had some medicine?’ he was trying to sound normal.

Kitty looked at him for a moment. ‘I walked down to the shop this morning.’

 She glanced away from him and stared at her clasped hands on the table.

Gordon sighed and pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. ‘Shall I make tea tonight? I could make one of my curries.’

‘If you like,’ she said quietly.

He reached out and stroked her hand. ‘Everything’s okay Kitty, there’s nothing wrong with the house or the orchard. You’re just letting things get on top of you.’

‘I’m fine Gordon.’He pushed the chair back and stood up. ‘Why don’t you go and have a soak while I make tea.’

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘No, I’ll stay here.’

 Kitty glanced nervously into the hall; Nero was laying full stretch on the hall floor, fast asleep. ‘Why isn’t it bothering Nero?’

 Gordon had his back turned while he was rummaging through the shelves in the freezer. He turned to face his wife. ‘What about the dog?’

‘Every time I see or hear something in this house he hasn’t been worried at all.’

‘Because there’s nothing to be worried about, that’s why.’

He put a pan on the hob and started to chop onions ‘What have you been doing today? Have you been busy?’

‘I was clearing up the garden, I was going to have a bonfire and I saw Mr Beamish, he was acting very strangely. I thought perhaps he was annoyed because I was going to have a fire but he didn’t answer when I asked him. He was really odd.’

‘Oh dear, poor old Mr Beamish is going to get the Kitty treatment now is he!’

‘That’s not funny.’

‘Sorry,’ he looked at Kitty; she was slumped in the chair looking tired and dejected. ‘I’m sure you’ll laugh about it in the morning.’

‘I doubt it.’

Gordon filled a pan at the sink and put it on the hob before throwing some chopped peppers into the frying onions.

‘Prawn curry okay?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘Yes, there’s a curry sauce in the cupboard if you want it, on the second shelf.’ She half rose from her chair. ‘Shall I get it for you?’

‘No, no sit still, I’ll get it.’

Gordon opened the sauce and poured it over the frying vegetables then threw the prawns on top of the mix, stirring it all together. The rice was gently bubbling on the hob and was nearly cooked.

‘Can you set the table?’

‘Yeah I’ll do that,’ she pushed herself up from the table and sneezed again. ‘Damn.’

‘Bless you dear, the local magic potion doesn’t seem to be working.’

Kitty blew her nose. ‘Well actually my throat isn’t so sore now so it must be working a bit.’

She put out the place mats and the knives and forks. ‘I think there is some red wine left if you’d like some.’

‘It should be lager with curry really but red wine will do.’

Gordon set out the plates on the table.

 ‘That smells wonderful,’ she said.

He brought over the dish of rice and curry. ‘Help yourself; I hope I have cooked enough rice.’

 They were halfway through their meal when a strange drumming started on the roof.

‘It’s raining again, sounds like a hard storm,’ said Gordon staring at the window.

‘That’s really noisy,’ she paused with a forkful of food half way to her mouth. Kitty turned to look out the window as well but by now it was already dark and she couldn’t see a thing. The drumming got louder and louder until they were almost deafened.

Kitty said alarmed ‘That sounds like hail but it’s not cold enough for that.’

The ferocious downpour continued, drumming on the roof and pinging off the windows of the kitchen, they sat in silence, their food forgotten. The lights in the kitchen flickered and Gordon glanced towards the hall in alarm.

 ‘Where did we put the torch?’

‘You don’t think we’re going to have a power cut do you?’ asked Kitty worried, as she spoke the lights flickered again.  ‘I think it’s in the garage but there are some candles in the living room.’

‘Well I’m sure we’re not going to need them Kitty, so don’t worry.’ Gordon reached across and patted her hand reassuringly. ‘It’s just the storm shaking the power lines that’s all.’

 Nero whined and climbed out of his dog box, he pushed his way through their legs to get under the table and sat next to Kitty’s legs whining gently. She groped underneath the table to find his head and gave it a gentle reassuring pat.

‘Wow! I’m glad I’m not out in this,’ Gordon had to raise his voice so that Kitty could hear him over the drumming noise.

Kitty leant towards him over the table. ‘Do you remember that news report of hail stones in America that were the size of golf balls?’

Gordon nodded. ‘Sounds like we have hail the size of boulders, but I don’t think I’ll go out just yet for a look.’

The sound slowly abated until within a few minutes there was just occasional ping of the hail stones on the window.

‘Ah, it’s stopping, thank goodness,’ he said rising from his chair. Gordon opened the back door. ‘Let’s look at the icebergs,’ he joked and switched on the outside light.

 It shone out brightly lighting up the path and illuminating half of the garden, the apple trees just beyond the pool of light were dark fingered shapes casting shadows onto the farm buildings behind the stone wall.

 The path was bone dry, no hail or rain had fallen outside.

He stared outside perplexed.

 ‘What? Look at this, there’s nothing out here Kitty. It’s dry, nothing has fallen at all!’

 Kitty came to the door and peered over his shoulder.

 ‘What was it then? Perhaps a branch fell on the roof or something.’

‘That wasn’t a branch, it sounded like hail but where is it?’

Gordon stepped out onto the back step and looked left and right.

 ‘How strange,’ he said perplexed and walked down the side of the house.

‘Gordon don’t go too far,’ she said in a panic, peering out of the door after him.

‘I’m just here Kitty.’

‘You have to admit that this is strange Gordon.’

He looked at her impatiently. ‘I’m sure there is a logical explanation.’

‘Well what is it then?’

‘What?’

‘The explanation.’

He looked perplexed for a minute. ‘I’ll let you know when I think of one.’

‘Good evening,’ a voice came from the dark lane making Kitty jump. She could just make out the figure of Mr Beamish waving an arm in greeting as he walked down the lane.

‘Evening,’ Gordon called out, turned and caught sight of the expression on his wife’s face ‘He’s just a harmless old man,’ he said in exasperation.

‘But he’s always around when something strange happens; perhaps he’s trying to scare us off his land.’

 She watched the old man disappear down the lane.

‘Now why would he want to do that?’

 Gordon steered her back into the warm kitchen and shut the door.

‘Perhaps it’s because we’re not locals.’

‘Locals? Your family come from Axmouth, mine from just over the hill. If we were any more local as you put it we would have been born in his farmyard!’

‘Perhaps he just doesn’t like us then.’

‘He’s a very nice old man, he’s always friendly.’

‘He wasn’t friendly when I was going to have my bonfire.’

‘Why, what did he say?’

‘Well nothing, he didn’t say anything, he just looked, well you know...weird.’

‘Weird! Perhaps he thinks you’re weird, perhaps he’s heard that you’ve being seeing ghosts. That’s weird.’

‘Well he was being very strange,’ huffed Kitty.

‘You’re imagining things again Kitty, come on,’ he said calmly.  ‘Let’s just get on with our meal before it gets too cold.’

‘What was that programme called from years ago, the spooky one?’

‘The Twilight Zone.’

‘That’s it! We’re living in the Twilight Zone!

The apple symbolises fruitfulness, prosperity,  and rejuvenation and the wood is still seen as a symbol of security. Beware of entering an apple orchard as the trees are inhabited by faeries and pixies, so do not sit beneath a tree and fall asleep or you will fall under a faerie enchantment. If you wish to call upon the faeries summon them with a apple wood wand; and eating an enchanted apple will allow you to enter the faerie realm.

The oldest tree in the orchard is inhabited by the Apple Tree Man, who is the guardian of the orchard. To honour him the last few apples must be left for him and the pixies; this custom is called griggling, pixy hoarding and cullpixying. You can burn the bark as an offering to the faeries on midsummer night.
In Somerset and Dorset the orchards are guarded by the colt Lazy Lawrence, while in Yorkshire it is
Auld Goggie who stands guard over the trees.

One common belief is that the apple has many magical and healing properties and as with most traditional remedies there is a basis for this. The pectin in the apple is a good germicide which promotes healthy skin tissue. Apple juice, applied to the skin, cures redness and it was used to treat the redness caused by too much alcohol.
To cure a wart rub a cut apple over it then bury the apple in the garden. As the apple rots the wart will disappear, this remedy was also used for rheumatism. The juice of the apple can also be used to cure small cuts.
There are many superstitions surrounding apples and orchards, these beliefs were taken seriously in earlier days: felling an apple tree would bring the death penalty as it was believed to bring bad luck.
Apple blossom must not be brought into the house as it will bring sickness and the evil influence, and if blossom appears on a tree late in the season it foretells a death in the family.

‘A bloom on the tree when the apples are ripe,

Is a sure termination of somebody’s life’

The apple symbolises fruitfulness so barren women would roll on the ground in orchards in an effort to conceive, they also believed that wearing pieces of bark pinned to their clothes would bring them a child, and if it was good year for apples then they could expect to have twins.
The main tradition of the orchard is the custom of wassailing the apple trees during the winter months. This is still prevalent today and has been revived in many country areas.
The owner of the orchard, along with friends,  gather in the orchard singing, firing shotguns into the branches and beating the trunks with sticks to drive out the evil spirits to ensure a good crop for the coming year.
Cider is drunk from the wassailing bowl which contains hot spiced cider, lumps of apple and pieces of toast.
The remains from the bowl is poured over the roots as an offering to the Apple Tree Man, and the cider soaked toast is placed in the forks of the trees.

‘Old Apple Tree we wassail thee, and happily thou wilt bear,

For the Lord knows where we shall be,

Till apples another year’

excerpt from  'Faerie Flora'