Regent’s Canal, London in the Month of April. Photo K Flude
The name of the Month of April comes from Latin. From Aperilis from aperio meaning ‘to open’. This is the month when the Earth opens up, the blossoms bloom, buds budding, the flowers flowering.
In Anglo-Saxon times, the Venerable Bede mentioned that they called the month Eostremonath. But there really is no other evidence for the Goddess Eostre. But it is from her that we get our word ‘Easter’. In Gaelic it’s the Cuckoo’s month ‘Ceitein na h-oinsich’. In Welsh it is Ebrill which comes from the Latin.
Title Page of the Kalendar of Shepherds for the Month of April
The image from the medieval Kalendar of Shepherds shows all the beautiful flowers blooming and a female sitting on the grass embroidering. The star signs of the month are shown in the roundels. (This section was moved from its original April Fools Day post home)
Aries sign of the ZodiacTaurus sign of the zodiac
Star Signs as Greek Deities
Astrological signs and their associated Dieties.
I can’t remember where I found this illustration nor its justification. But, surely there something wrong when the God Aries is not the patron of the Star sign Aries? Hestia is the Goddess of the Heath. In other words, she is the Goddess of all those wonderful things that are encompassed by the word ‘Home’. (You’ll find more on Hestia in my reflections-on-the-solstice/)
The Month of April in the Kalendar of Shepherds
The Kalendar of Shepherds as usual gives a lyrical insight into the countryside in the month of April:
It continues with a poem, and then the text describes what happens to the child in the fourth set of 6 years. January represents 0 – 6, February 6 – 12, so April 18 – 24 – the spring time of Man.
Sir Walter Scott recorded that ‘the last three days of March are called the borrowing days; for as they are remarked to be unusually stormy, it is feigned that March has borrowed them from April to extend his sphere of his rougher sway.’
There are various traditions and poems that record the borrowing days, and this is in the Scotch dialect:
March borrowed from April Three Days, and they were ill: The first was frost, the second was snaw, The third was cauld as ever’t could blaw.
The Borrowing Days in Spain
There is a Spanish story which explains this a little more. A shepherd asked March to calm the winds to suit his flock of sheep, in return for a lamb. March compiled but, then, the Shepherd refused to hand over the lamb. So, March borrowed three days from April and made them fierce and stormy. Versions of this tale are known from Staffordshire, North England and Scotland. (Source ‘Weather Law’ by Richard Inwards 1994 (first published 1893).
Last year was windy with sunny spells followed by cold rain and fierce gusts. This year has been sunny and warm, but today there was a pretty fierce wind.
Warm days at the end of March or the beginning of April bring the Blackthorns into bloom. This often followed by a cold snap which is known as a ‘Backthorn Winter.’
February 2023 in Haggerston Park, London showing early blossom (Blackthorn?) Photo K Flude
For more on blossom and Haggerston Park follow my link to haggerston-park/
Nature in Art
For a glimpse of Nature in art, follow this link to the ‘Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek’ in Denmark. This is a Museum with ‘a vast collection of art and sculpture.’ The link will take you to the ‘After Nature’ Special Exhibition page. Here, you can see a few of the Spring paintings, including a Gauguin and a Van Gogh. But, you can see more, including the ‘After Nature’ exhibition if you download the app. Another excuse to visit the wonderful City of Copenhagen. On my first visit I stayed in a cabin on an historic Wooden Ship in the harbour.
Screenshot of webpage Glyptotek Museum
On This Day.
Photo of cover of Chambers Book of Days
2024 – I purchased the Chamber’s Book of Days, updated from the original 1864 publication, and began adding occasional ‘On This Day’ epilogues to my posts.
1461 – The Battle of Towton, England’s bloodiest battle. Part of the Wars of the Roses.
1871 – Official Opening of the Royal Albert Hall
1912 – Captain Scott’slast entry in his diary.
‘We shall stick it out to the end, but we are getting weaker, of course, and the end cannot be far, It seems a pity, but I do not think I can write more.’
The expression ‘Mad as a March Hare’ comes from the displays of hare boxing that takes place as the Hare mating season begins. And no, it’s not the male March Hare fighting in the spirit of romantic rivalry. It is the female hares fighting off unwanted attention from the males. Hares are solitary creatures, and the mating season is, perhaps, particularly difficult for them. The Country File website has more on the subject. www.countryfile.com
Not only March Hares but March Kittens too
There are also March Kittens and March Chickens. Edward Topsell in his ‘History of Four-footed Beasts‘ 1607 says the best Kittens to keep are those born in March. ‘The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby Opened‘ 1669 says:
‘Keep a black cock hatched in March as a protection against evil spirits: his crowing terrifies them.’
He also give a recipe for Cock Ale:
Eight gallons of Ale, a boiled March Cock, four pounds of stoned Raisins, half a pound of dates, nutmegs, mace. Beat the ingredients in a mortar, add to two quarts of Sherry. Add to the ale. Stop it in a container for 6 or 7 days. Bottle it, drink after a month.
Very weird. I challenge my readers to try it and let me know how it goes?
Was the March Hare Sacred?
But its not only March Haries, because the hare itself was a sacred animal. It was sacred to Aphrodite because of their prodigious ability to have offspring:
‘For you know, I imagine, what is said of the hare, that it possesses the gift of Aphrodite to an unusual degree. At any rate it is said of the female that while she suckles the young she has borne, she bears another litter to share the same milk; forthwith she conceives again, nor is there any time at all when she is not carrying young.’
Classical Texts Library. Philostratus the Elder, ‘Imagines’ Book 1.1-15 c 3rd Century AD. Translated by Arthur Fairbanks.
Divine Celtic & Neolithic Hares
Research reported by Exeter University suggests that hares were worshipped in pre-Roman Britain.Julius Caesar wrote:
“The Britons consider it contrary to divine law to eat the hare, the chicken, or the goose.”
‘The Battle for Gaul’ Translation by Wiseman, Anne, Wiseman, T. P. Published by Penguin Random House, 1980 ISBN 10: 0701125047 (TP Wiseman was my professor for Classical Studies at Leicester University).
Hares are thought to be the original Easter Bunny. But finding good evidence before Germany in the early modern period is difficult. There is a tradition that witches can be scared away at Easter. Exactly, how this works is not at all clear to me. But it has been said that witches could take on the form of a hare. So eating Hare Pie at Easter help rid the land of the witches.
You could have a jugged hare. Jugging is cooking a whole animal in a container over water. Follow this link for a recipe for jugged wild hare. Remember, you are not allowed to shot or trap them on a Sunday or on Christmas Day! For a discussion of hares and folklore, click here:
Hare’s Feet Totems
A jointed hare’s foot was considered very lucky and a remedy against gout, stomach pains and insomnia. (The Perpetual Almanack of Folklore by Charles Kightly, which I have used several times in this piece.) You can buy one on eBay. (Don’t click the links, it’s not an advert but a picture of an advert). I remember friends having rabbit feet which they carried around with them often on key rings?
Peak Cherry Blossom Photos by Natalie Tobert (to see her fantastic sculptures, look here:)
This year, I don’t think it is yet Peak Blossom. But I’m going to keep this post here to remind you of the joy of the Blossom season. You can plan to visit your local Blossom Hot spot!
Peak cherry blossom is sometime between late March and early April. Last year it was around March 19th, this year maybe a week or two away. There are many suggested places, and I enclose a couple of web links with more details. But my friend, Natalie Tobert, posted last year about Japanese people queuing up to photo cherry blossom in Swiss Cottage.
Here is an Instagram video of the blossom in Swiss Cottage, near Hampstead, London.
For the Japanese Cherry Blossom represents both the beauty of life and its brevity. Sakura are honoured by the Samurai, and were on the badges of KamiKazi Pilots in World War 2. The Japanese began their blossom time with Plum Blossom. They can be difficult to tell apart from Cherry but it is much more fragrant. It blossoms earlier.
Cherry trees consist of 430 species in the genus Prunus. Wild Cherry and Bird Cherry are native to the UK. Normal blossom time is April. In mild winters and sheltered places like London they can blossom as soon as February. The flowers are known as Sakura in Japan, and viewing them is ‘Hanami’. Bird Cherry usually flowers in May. Recent blossoming is over 7 days earlier than the average for the previous 1,200 years.
The store cupboards are getting denuded of the fruits, nuts, preserves, pickles, salted and dried foods saved from the summer and autumnal abundance. Of course, this is alleviated by the reduced consumption of the Lenten fast. (I’m continuing my lenten practice of giving up, giving up things for Lent). But nettles are budding. I take a regular cup of nettle tea. Normally, provided by the excellent Cowan’s tea emporium in the Covered Market in Oxford. But I’m running out and not due to visit Oxford for a month or so. So Charles Kightley in his Perpetual Almanac tells me that young stinging nettles are appearing. So, I will watch this YouTube video and collect my own young, juicy nettles.
YouTube Video on making Nettle Tea
Nettle Beer
Or better still, change up the tea for a nettle beer:
Take a gallon measure of freshly gathered young nettles washed well dried and well packed down. Boil them in a gallon of water for at least a quarter of an hour. Then strain them, press them and put the juice in an earthenware pot with a pound of brown sugar and the juice and grated skin of a lemon. Stir well, and before it grows cool put in an ounce of yeast dissolved in some of the liquid. Cover with a cloth and leave in a warm place for four or five days and strain again and bottle it, stopping the bottles well. It’ll be ready after a week, but better if left longer.
Nettle: Detecting Virgins and Flagellation
A more sinister use is provided by William Coles who gives a method of detecting virginity.
‘Nettle tops are usually boiled in pottage in the Springtime, to consume the Phlegmatic superfluities in the body of man, that the coldness and moistness of the winter have left behind. And it is said that if the juice of the roots of nettles be mixed with ale and beer, and given to one that suspected to have lost her maidenhood, if it remain with her, she is a maid, But if she’s spews forth, she is not.‘
William Cole’s Adam in Eden 1657.
William Camden reported that Roman soldiers used nettles to heat up their legs in the cold of a British winter. (from Mrs Greaves’ ‘A Modern Herbal). Perhaps, I should have sent that idea to PM Keir Starmer? He might have suggested the method to Senior Citizens to alleviate the loss of their Winter Fuel Allowance?
In the early modern period nettles were added to horse feed to make their coats shine. It was used as a hair tonic for humans. Nettle Beer was brewed for old people against ‘gouty and rheumatic pains’. Flogging with nettles was a cure for rheumatism and the loss of muscle power!
Nettle Fabrics
The 18th century poet Thomas Campbell is quoted on the virtues of nettles:
“I have slept in nettle sheets, and I have dined off a nettle tablecloth. The young and tender nettle is an excellent potherb. The stalks of the old nettle are as good as flax for making cloth. I have heard my mother say that she thought nettle cloth more durable than any other linen.”
In 2012, a Danish Bronze Age Burial was found to be dressed in a shroud made of Nettle. Strangely, the nettle was not local, perhaps being made in Austria where other objects in the rich burial came from. However, the person was thought to be Scandinavian. For more have a look at this article on www.nbcnews.com.
In the Irong Age, also in Denmakr, Huldremose Woman was found buried in a bog. She had a severed arm and was buried in elaborate sheep and goat skin clothes, but underneath:
‘she wore a white inner garment made from plant fibres that reached from the shoulders to below the knees. The type of plant fiber is unclear but other evidence from the time period suggests that it could have been made of nettle.’
Greaves tells us that the German and Austrians had a shortage of cotton during the blockade of World War 1. They turned to nettles to replace cotton production believing it to be the only effective substitute. It was also substituted for sugar, starch, protein, paper and ethyl alcohol.
YouTube Video on making fabric from nettles
Nettle Pudding
Pepys ate Nettle Pudding in February 1661 and pronounced it ‘very good’. Here is more on Nettles in history AND a recipe for Nettle Pudding! I can see I’m going to have to get out there and carefully pick myself some nettles! ( For Folklore of Nettles look here).
This post commemorates the death of John Evelyn. It should have been published yesterday, but I had to publish my post on Fat Thursday. Being a moveable feast, it moved to February 27th this year. You will find more about Evelyn below. But first, I must report back on my success or failure of the Lardy Cake I cooked to celebrate Gioverdi Grasso.
lardy cake being madeLady Cake overcooked!Slice of Lardy Cake
Ok, so my first error was to forget to put the sugar in! Secondly, I was distracted so did not put the timer on, so it was a little overcooked, but not disastrously. I also used Wholemeal flour rather than Strong White flour, which Paul Hollywood suggested. I’ve had about 4 slices, last night and this morning. Verdict: Quite Good. But buy it from a shop next time. Don’t apply to appear on Bake-off. Its ok, if you sprinkle a little sugar on. Next slice I might try some jam. It is more like a fruit bread than a lardy cake. I have now washed the utensils 4 times, and they are still covered in lard! But at least it’s less fat ingested.
Back to John Evelyn
27th February, 1661. Ash Wednesday. Preached before the King the Bishop of London (Dr. Sheldon) on Matthew xviii. 25, concerning charity and forgiveness.
John Evelyn is, with Pepys and Wren, one of the great figures of 17th Century London. Unlike Pepys he was an avowed Royalist who hated Oliver Cromwell and all he stood for. He went into exile with his King and gives a great description of Paris (see below). Dr Sheldon, the Bishop of London mentioned above, went on to become Archbishop of Canterbury. He was a friend of Wren’s Father, and commissioned Wren to build the Sheldonian Theatre, in Oxford.
Like Pepys, John Evelyn was a diarist and a writer. And they, like Wren, were alumni of the Royal Society, one of the great scientific societies. John Evelyn was a founding fellow. It was innovative in that it employed an experimenter. He was Robert Hooke – one of the great early Scientists, who also worked with Wren rebuilding London after the Great Fire. The Royal Society encouraged scientists to experiment, write up, and submit their theories to for peer review. This is the foundation of Western Science, and a bedrock of the Enlightenment.
Frontispiece of ‘the History of the Royal-Society of London by Thomas Sprat. John Evelyn was a founder member
Evelyn the Writer.
Evelyn has a place in my history because, in the 1980’s I worked. with Paul Herbert, on a project to create an interactive history of London. It was financed by Warner Brothers, and in cooperation with the short-lived ‘BBC Interactive TV Unit’. One part of it was a Literary Tour of London. And this is where I came across John Evelyn using several of the quotations on this page.
Evelyn was a prolific traveller and a polymath. He wrote on the need to improve London’s architecture and air in Fumifugium (or The Inconveniencie of the Aer and Smoak of London Dissipated).
Here is an extract from his Furmifugium.
‘That this Glorious and Antient City, which from Wood might be rendred Brick, and (like another Rome) from Brick made Stone and Marble; which commands the Proud Ocean to the Indies, and reaches to the farthest Antipodes, should wrap her stately head in Clowds of Smoake and Sulphur, so full of Stink and Darknesse, I deplore with just Indignation.
That the Buildings should be compos’d of such a Congestion of mishapen and extravagant Houses; That the Streets should be so narrow and incommodious in the very Center, and busiest places of Intercourse: That there should be so ill and uneasie a form of Paving under foot, so troublesome and malicious a disposure of the Spouts and Gutters overhead, are particulars worthy of Reproof and Reformation; because it is hereby rendred a Labyrinth in its principal passages, and a continual Wet-day after the Storm is over. ‘
And he was an expert on trees. Author of: Sylva, or A Discourse of Forest-Trees (1664). He lived at Sayes Court in Depford near Greenwich, which he ill-advisedly rented to Peter the Great of Russia. Letting to Peter was a lot-like inviting a 1960s Rock Band to trash your mansion.
John Evelyn the Exile
Here is a taste of Evelyn’s time as an Exile. It is a short extract from a long entry on the splendid Palaces in and around Paris.
27th February, 1644. Accompanied with some English gentlemen, we took horse to see St. Germains-en-Laye, a stately country house of the King, some five leagues from Paris. By the way, we alighted at St. Cloud, where, on an eminence near the river, the Archbishop of Paris has a garden, for the house is not very considerable, rarely watered and furnished with fountains, statues,[and groves; the walks are very fair; the fountain of Laocoon is in a large square pool, throwing the water near forty feet high, and having about it a multitude of statues and basins, and is a surprising object. But nothing is more esteemed than the cascade falling from the great steps into the lowest and longest walk from the Mount Parnassus, which consists of a grotto, or shell-house, on the summit of the hill, wherein are divers waterworks and contrivances to wet the spectators; this is covered with a fair cupola, the walls painted with the Muses, and statues placed thick about it, whereof some are antique and good. In the upper walks are two perspectives, seeming to enlarge the alleys, and in this garden are many other ingenious contrivances.
When Charles II was restored to the throne in 1660, this was Evelyn’s reaction:
May 29th 1660:
This day came in his Majestie Charles the 2d to London after a sad, and long exile… this was also his birthday, and with a Triumph of above 20,000 horse and foote, brandishing their swords and shouting with unexpressable joy; the wayes strawed with flowers, the bells ringing, the streets hung with Tapisry, fountains running with wine: ‘
‘The mayor, Aldermen, all the companies in their liveries, chaines of gold, banners, Lords and nobles, cloth of Silver, gold and velvet every body clad in, the windows and balconies all set with Ladys, Trumpetes, Musik, and myriads of people … All this without one drop of bloud …it was the Lords doing…
Hans Holbein the YoungerDesign for a Stained Glass Window with Terminus. Pen and ink and brush, grey wash, watercolour, over preliminary chalk drawing, 31.5 × 25 cm, Kunstmuseum Basel. ‘Terminus is often pictured as a bust on a boundary stone, His festival is ‘Terminalia’
Today is ‘Terminalia, the Roman day for setting land boundaries. The festival of Terminus was a pastoral outdoor festival marking the boundaries of towns and villages. It resembles the Beating of the Bounds tradition that we have in Britain. This is in recorded, in the UK, from anglo-saxon times, and still continues in some parishes. I will talk about this on Ascension Day in May.
Terminus was an old ancient God who was the God of the boundary, the border, the edge, the liminal God. Ovid says King Tarquinus swept away the old Gods on the Capital Hill and Jupiter became the Great God. All the old temples were taken down except for that of Terminus. Instead, Jupiter’s Temple was built around Terminus’ temple. They put a hole in the roof because Terminus had to be worshipped in the open air.
Terminus’s motto was “concedo nulli” which means “I yield to no one”. This was adopted by Erasmus as his personal motto in 1509.
Terminalia and the Roman Year
The Terminalia was celebrated on the last day of the old Roman year. February was the last month of the year. The rulers of Rome added an intercalary month called Mercedonius in an attempt to keep the Solar year in tune with the seasons. And when the intercalary month was added, the last five days of February were given to the month Mercedonius. The resulting ‘leap year‘ was either 377 or 378 days long. So, in those years, the 23rd of February was the Terminus of the year.
The intercalary months were added at the direction of the Pontiffs, supposedly every two or three years. But the Pontiffs were often swayed by political advantage and delayed the decision. By the time of Julius Caesar, the seasons were wildly out of sync with the calendar year. The Dictator, responded by instituting ‘the Year of Confusion’. This was over 400 days long. It brought in the Julian Calendar which realigned the calendar back in line with the seasons. It resolved the problem by a leap day every four years. This was based on the almost correct calculation of a solar year being 365.25 days. It was another 1500 years before that inaccuracy was corrected. By which time the year was another 11 days out of kilter, and the Julian Year was replaced by the Gregorian Year,
Here is what Ovid, in ‘Fasti’ says about Terminalis
When night has passed, let the god be celebrated With customary honour, who separates the fields with his sign. Terminus, whether a stone or a stump buried in the earth, You have been a god since ancient times. You are crowned from either side by two landowners, Who bring two garlands and two cakes in offering. An altar’s made: here the farmer’s wife herself Brings coals from the warm hearth on a broken pot. The old man cuts wood and piles the logs with skill, And works at setting branches in the solid earth. Then he nurses the first flames with dry bark, While a boy stands by and holds the wide basket. When he’s thrown grain three times into the fire The little daughter offers the sliced honeycombs. Others carry wine: part of each is offered to the flames: The crowd, dressed in white, watch silently. Terminus, at the boundary, is sprinkled with lamb’s blood, And doesn’t grumble when a sucking pig is granted him. Neighbours gather sincerely, and hold a feast, And sing your praises, sacred Terminus: You set bounds to peoples, cities, great kingdoms: Without you every field would be disputed. You curry no favour: you aren’t bribed with gold, Guarding the land entrusted to you in good faith. If you’d once marked the bounds of Thyrean lands, Three hundred men would not have died, Nor Othryadesí name be seen on the pile of weapons. O how he made his fatherland bleed! What happened when the new Capitol was built? The whole throng of gods yielded to Jupiter and made room: But as the ancients tell, Terminus remained in the shrine Where he was found, and shares the temple with great Jupiter. Even now there’s a small hole in the temple roof, So he can see nothing above him but stars. Since then, Terminus, you’ve not been free to wander: Stay there, in the place where you’ve been put, And yield not an inch to your neighbour’s prayers, Lest you seem to set men above Jupiter: And whether they beat you with rakes, or ploughshares, Call out: This is your field, and that is his! There’s a track that takes people to the Laurentine fields, The kingdom once sought by Aeneas, the Trojan leader: The sixth milestone from the City, there, bears witness To the sacrifice of a sheep’s entrails to you, Terminus. The lands of other races have fixed boundaries: The extent of the City of Rome and the world is one
Today, is Sexagesima Sunday. The second Sunday before Ash Wednesday. It comes from the Latin for sixtieth and is very approximately 60 days before Easter. It is the time when we should be reflecting on our sins and lifestyle before we enter Lent.
Snowdrop, Crocus, Violet and Silver Birch circle in Haggerston Park. (Photo Kevin Flude, 2022)
Ovid’s Metamorphoses tells the story of Crocus and Smilax This poem is one of the most famous in the world, written in about 6 AD. It influenced Dante, Bocaccio, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Keats, Bernard Shaw, and me. It was translated anew by Seamus Hughes.
The mechanicals in ‘The Midsummers Night Dream’ perform Ovid’s story of Pyramus and Thisbe, Titian painted Diana and Actaeon. Shaw wrote about Pygmalion, and we all know the story of Arachne. Claiming to be better than Athene at weaving and then being turned into a spider.
The poem is about love, beauty, change, arrogance and is largely an Arcadian/rural poem. This is a contrast to Ovid’s ‘Art of Love’ which I use for illustrations of life in a Roman town. The stories are all about metamorphoses, mostly changes happening because of love. But it is also an epic as it tells the classical story of the universe from creation to Julius Caesar.
Ovid’s Metamorphoses and the Crocus
Ovid tells us ‘Crocus and his beloved Smilax were changed into tiny flowers.’ But he chooses to give us no more details. So we have to look elsewhere. There are various versions. In the first, Crocus is a handsome mortal youth, beloved of the God Hermes (Mercury). They are playing with a discus which hits Crocus on the head and kills him. Hermes, distraught, turns the youth into a beautiful flower. Three drops of his blood form the stigma of the flower. In another, love hits Crocus and the nymph Smilax, and they are rewarded by immortality as a flower. One tale has Smilax turned into the Bindweed.
Morning Glory or Field Bindweed photo Leslie Saunders unsplash
Ovid’s Metamorphoses and Bindweed
It turns out that Smilax means ‘bindweed’ in Latin. Bindweed is from the Convolvulus family, and I have grown one very successfully in a pot for many years. But they have long roots. According to the RHS ‘Bindweed‘ refers to two similar trumpet-flowered weeds. Both of which twine around other plant stems, smothering them in the process. They are difficult to remove.’ This, could suggest that Smilax is either punished for spurning Crocus, or that she smothered him with love. Medically, Mrs Grieve’s Modern Herbal says all the bindweeds have strong purgative virtues, perhaps another insight into her pyschology?
The Metamorphosis of Data and the correct use of the plural
Apparently, in the UK some say crocuses and others use the correct Latin plural, croci. On an earlier version of this post I used the incorrect plural crocii.
On the subject of Roman plurals, an earth-shattering decision was made by the Financial Times editorial department. Last year they updated their style guide to make the plural word data (datum is the singular form) metamorphise into the singular form.
So it is now wrong to say ‘data are’ but right to say ‘data is’. For example, it was correct to say: ‘the data are showing us that 63% of British speakers use crocuses as the plural’ but now, it is better to write ‘the data is showing us that 37% of British people prefer the correct Latin form of croci’.
Violets and crocuses are coming out. So far, in 2025 I have seen just one flowering in the local park. The crocus represents many things, but because they often come out for St Valentine’s Day, they are associated with Love. White croci usually represented truth, innocence, and purity. The purple variety imply success, pride and dignity. The yellow type is joy.’ according to www.icysedgwick.com/, which gives a fairly comprehensive look at the Crocus.
Photo Mohammad Amiri from unsplash. Notice the crimson stigma and styles, called threads, Crocus is one of the characters in Ovid’s Metamorphoses
Crocus & Saffron
The autumn-flowering perennial plant Crocus sativus, is the one whose stigma gives us saffron. This was spread across Europe by the Romans. They used it for medicine, as a dye, and a perfume. It was much sought after as a protection against the plague. It was extensively grown in the UK. Saffron Walden was a particularly important production area in the 16th and 17th Centuries.
Saffron in London
It was grown in the Bishop of Ely’s beautiful Gardens in the area remembered by the London street name: Saffron Hill. It is home to the fictional Scrooge. This area became the London home of Christopher Hatton, the favourite of Queen Elizabeth 1. For more on Christopher Hatton see my post on nicknames Queen Elizabeth I gave to her favourites). His garden was on the west bank of the River Fleet, in London EC1, in the area now know as Hatton Garden.
I found out more about Saffron from listening to BBC Radio 4’s Gardener’s Question time and James Wong.
The place-name Croydon (on the outskirts of London), means Crocus Valley. a place where Saffron was grown. The Saffron crops in Britain failed eventually because of the cost of harvesting, and it became cheaper to import it. It is now grown in Spain, Iran and India amongst other places. But attempts over the last 5 years have been made to reintroduce it, This is happening in Norfolk, Suffolk, Kent and Sussex – the hot and dry counties. It likes a South facing aspect, and needs to be protected from squirrels and sparrows who love it.
Saffron Photo by Vera De on Unsplash Viola odorata CC BY-SA 2.5 Wikipedia
Violets
Violets have been used as cosmetics by the Celts; to moderate anger by the Athenians, for insomnia by the Iranians and loved by all because of their beauty and fragrance. They have been symbols of death for the young, and used as garlands, nosegays posies which Gerard says are ‘delightful’.
For more on Ovid use the search facility (click on menu) or read my post here.
Fornacalia was a corn festival that took place around February 7th to the 17th. Romans were assigned days to celebrate (see below) but the last day, today, was reserved for those fools who did not know their proper day.
Pliny the Elder says it was King Numa Pompilius (753-673 BC), who established Fornacalia, The Feast of Ovens. Fornacalia celebrated Fornax who was the Goddess of the Oven – specifically the grain oven for drying grain. The word for oven is also Fornax, from which we probably derive our word furnace.
The Annona
Rome had a population of one million people, and keeping them fed was a difficult task. So the celebration of Fornacalia was an important feast designed to protect Rome’s all important grain supply. The Imperial Government took on the responsibility of providing the grain in a system called the Annona. and provided the Citizens with free bread. The Italian Annona brought much of its grain from Egypt.
Londinium & the Annona
Dominic Perring in his recent book on Roman London (Londinium in the Roman Empire) speculates that the fluctuating fortunes of London was dependent upon the routing of a northern Annona through Londinium. When the Emperor was engaged with the North Western Empire London thrived, when he wasn’t interested it declined.
Organising the Fornaclia and the Curio Maximus
The Festivals in Rome were organised by the Curio Maximus who was a priest who supervised the curiae. In Rome the citizens were arranged, originally, into the 3 ancient tribes of Rome (founded in the 8th Century BC). The Tribes were supposed to represent the ancient ethnic groups. These were the Ramnes the Latin population, the Tities the Sabines, and the Luceres the Etruscans. The tribes were then divided into 10 curiae each. So there were 30 curiae.
Each Roman was supposed to be assigned to one of the curiae, which had a religious, social and voting function. The name may come from ‘co-viria – a gathering of men’. The members of the curiae were known as curiales. Each curiae had their own priest, or curio, and assistant priest ‘flamen curialis‘. And they organised the religious ceremonies of the curiae. They met in a meeting place called the curia.
So the Curio Maximus would declare when a festival was to be held, and get the curiae to organise the celebrations at the curia. I hope you are still with me! They would choose a date, for example for the Fornacalia, between about the 7th Feb and the 17th of February. And the citizens would go to their curia where there would be a ceremonial roasting of the grain, and baking into bread which would be in honour of the Goddess Fornax.
Ovid & the Feast of Fools
Ovid, who wrote his almanac poem on the Roman festivals (Fasti), reveals many of these details. He points out that many people didn’t know which curiae they were in. So they would celebrate on the last day of the Festival, which, therefore, became known as the Feast of Fools.
Learn too why this day is called the Feast of Fools. The reason for it is trivial but fitting. The earth of old was farmed by ignorant men: Fierce wars weakened their powerful bodies. There was more glory in the sword than the plough: And the neglected farm brought its owner little return. Yet the ancients sowed corn, corn they reaped, Offering the first fruits of the corn harvest to Ceres. Taught by practice they parched it in the flames, And incurred many losses through their own mistakes. Sometimes they’d sweep up burnt ash and not corn, Sometimes the flames took their huts themselves: The oven was made a goddess, Fornax: the farmers Pleased with her, prayed she’d regulate the grain’s heat. Now the Curio Maximus, in a set form of words, declares The shifting date of the Fornacalia, the Feast of Ovens: And round the Forum hang many tablets, On which every ward displays its particular sign. Foolish people don’t know which is their ward, So they hold the feast on the last possible day.
Book II: February 17 From: Fasti, Book 2. Translated by A.S Kline and available here
Someone told me that the Roman word for the person who looked after a furnace was the fornicator. And as heat was a ’cause’ of lust, fornicators well, they fornicated.
However, others derive the word from the word Fornix, which is an arch. And arches, it was said, was where the Brothels were, hence fornicator. Not sure I’m going with that idea that Brothels were always under arches. But have a look at the online etymology dictionary’s definition which might help you make up your mind:
from Late Latin fornicationem (nominative fornicatio), noun of action from past-participle stem of fornicari “to fornicate,” from Latin fornix (genitive fornicis) “brothel” (Juvenal, Horace), originally “arch, vaulted chamber, a vaulted opening, a covered way,” probably an extension, based on appearance, from a source akin to fornus “brick oven of arched or domed shape” (from PIE root *gwher- “to heat, warm”). Strictly, “voluntary sex between an unmarried man and an unmarried woman;” extended in the Bible to adultery. The sense extension in Latin is perhaps because Roman prostitutes commonly solicited from under the arches of certain buildings.
As you can see it’s a big old mix-up of arches, brothels, brick ovens, all quite unconvincing, so I’m sticking with my over-heated stoker theory.
In 2023, I saw my first Daffodil in Hackney in a Council Estate on 12 January. My first daffodil in 2024 was outside my first floor window in early February. In 2025, I can see the shoots of Daffodils in my garden but nothing blooming. However, there are the first daffodils in my area by the side of a different Council Estate. They bring such joy and hope for the return of the Sun.
12 Jan 2023. Hackney, London, the first Daffodil.
Narcissus the Flower
Their formal name is Narcissus. The Roman natural historian, Pliny tells us that the plant was:
‘named Narcissus from narkē not from the fabulous boy.’
Narkē is the Greek word from which we derive the word narcotic. It is a reference to the narcotic properties of the narcissus. An extract of the bulb applied to open wounds produced numbness of the whole nervous system and paralysis of the heart. The flowers are also slightly poisonous. So, they were used as an emetic. They brought on vomiting when it was felt necessary that the stomach be emptied. It was used to treat hysteria and epilepsy. They treated children with bronchial catarrh or epidemic dysentery. Among Arabian doctors, it was used to cure baldness and as an aphrodisiac. (Source: A Modern Herbal by Mrs M Grieve.) Please remember these are not recommendations for use medicinally, but are historic uses and may be dangerous.
Daffodils & Narcissus the Fabulous Boy
The fabulous boy, mentioned by Pliny, was Narcissus. He, according to the Roman Poet Ovid, met the nymph Echo, and she fell in love with the beautiful boy. He spurned her, and she faded until all that remained of her was her voice – the echo we hear.
Nemesis, the Goddess of Revenge (the one with the fiery sword) decided on revenge upon the handsome boy. She lured the thirsty youth to a fountain, where he saw an image of a breathtakingly handsome boy. He fell instantly in love with such beauty. But it was an image of himself. Realising he would never meet anyone as fabulous as himself, he faded from life. He eventually metamorphised into a white and yellow flower, which was named after him.
Nemesis from the painting on the Staircase at Hampton Court by Antonio Verrio, Photo K Flude
Daffodils & Shakespeare
Daffodils are mentioned in a list of Spring Flowers by Shakespeare in the pastoral play The Winter’s Tale:
(Please note that as you read Shakespeare’s words below that Prosperpina is the wife of Pluto, the God of the Underworld, Dis, is another name for him, Cytherea is the Goddess of Beauty and Love. Phoebus is the Sun God. And the Spring Flowers are Daffodils, violets, primroses, oxlips(primula), Crown Imperial (Fritillaria imperialis), Lilies, flower-De-luce (Iris)
Perdita to Camillo
Out, alas! You’d be so lean that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. (To Florizel) I would I had some flowers o’th’ spring, that might Become your time of day – (to the Shepherdesses) That wear upon your virgin branches yet Your maidenheads growing. O Proserpina, For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let’st fall From Dis’s waggon! Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength – a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one: O, these I lack To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend To strew him o’er and o’er!WT IV.iv.110.2
The reference to Daffodils suggests that for Shakespeare they are around to withstand the March Winds before the Swallows arrive in April. With selective breeding, early flowering species have been developed. Now February and even January are within the scope of the glorious bulb. (here is a post on winter flowering varieties)
Once a noisy Nymph, (who never held her tongue when others spoke, who never spoke till others had begun) mocking Echo, spied him as he drove, in his delusive nets, some timid stags.—For Echo was a Nymph, in olden time,—and, more than vapid sound,—possessed a form: and she was then deprived the use of speech, except to babble and repeat the words, once spoken, over and over. Juno confused her silly tongue, because she often held that glorious goddess with her endless tales, till many a hapless Nymph, from Jove’s embrace, had made escape adown a mountain. But for this, the goddess might have caught them. Thus the glorious Juno, when she knew her guile; “Your tongue, so freely wagged at my expense, shall be of little use; your endless voice, much shorter than your tongue.” At once the Nymph was stricken as the goddess had decreed;—and, ever since, she only mocks the sounds of others’ voices, or, perchance, returns their final words.
One day, when she observed Narcissus wandering in the pathless woods, she loved him and she followed him, with soft and stealthy tread.—The more she followed him the hotter did she burn, as when the flame flares upward from the sulphur on the torch. Oh, how she longed to make her passion known! To plead in soft entreaty! to implore his love! But now, till others have begun, a mute of Nature she must be. She cannot choose but wait the moment when his voice may give to her an answer. Presently the youth, by chance divided from his trusted friends, cries loudly, “Who is here?” and Echo, “Here!” Replies. Amazed, he casts his eyes around, and calls with louder voice, “Come here!” “Come here!” She calls the youth who calls.—He turns to see who calls him and, beholding naught exclaims, “Avoid me not!” “Avoid me not!” returns. He tries again, again, and is deceived by this alternate voice, and calls aloud; “Oh let us come together!” Echo cries, “Oh let us come together!” Never sound seemed sweeter to the Nymph, and from the woods she hastens in accordance with her words, and strives to wind her arms around his neck. He flies from her and as he leaves her says, “Take off your hands! you shall not fold your arms around me. Better death than such a one should ever caress me!” Naught she answers save, “Caress me!” Thus rejected she lies hid in the deep woods, hiding her blushing face with the green leaves; and ever after lives concealed in lonely caverns in the hills. But her great love increases with neglect; her miserable body wastes away, wakeful with sorrows; leanness shrivels up her skin, and all her lovely features melt, as if dissolved upon the wafting winds—nothing remains except her bones and voice—her voice continues, in the wilderness; her bones have turned to stone. She lies concealed in the wild woods, nor is she ever seen on lonely mountain range; for, though we hear her calling in the hills, ’tis but a voice, a voice that lives, that lives among the hills.
Thus he deceived the Nymph and many more, sprung from the mountains or the sparkling waves; and thus he slighted many an amorous youth.—and therefore, some one whom he once despised, lifting his hands to Heaven, implored the Gods, “If he should love deny him what he loves!” and as the prayer was uttered it was heard by Nemesis, who granted her assent.
There was a fountain silver-clear and bright, which neither shepherds nor the wild she-goats, that range the hills, nor any cattle’s mouth had touched—its waters were unsullied—birds disturbed it not; nor animals, nor boughs that fall so often from the trees. Around sweet grasses nourished by the stream grew; trees that shaded from the sun let balmy airs temper its waters. Here Narcissus, tired of hunting and the heated noon, lay down, attracted by the peaceful solitudes and by the glassy spring. There as he stooped to quench his thirst another thirst increased. While he is drinking he beholds himself reflected in the mirrored pool—and loves; loves an imagined body which contains no substance, for he deems the mirrored shade a thing of life to love. He cannot move, for so he marvels at himself, and lies with countenance unchanged, as if indeed a statue carved of Parian marble. Long, supine upon the bank, his gaze is fixed on his own eyes, twin stars; his fingers shaped as Bacchus might desire, his flowing hair as glorious as Apollo’s, and his cheeks youthful and smooth; his ivory neck, his mouth dreaming in sweetness, his complexion fair and blushing as the rose in snow-drift white. All that is lovely in himself he loves, and in his witless way he wants himself:—he who approves is equally approved; he seeks, is sought, he burns and he is burnt. And how he kisses the deceitful fount; and how he thrusts his arms to catch the neck that’s pictured in the middle of the stream! Yet never may he wreathe his arms around that image of himself. He knows not what he there beholds, but what he sees inflames his longing, and the error that deceives allures his eyes. But why, O foolish boy, so vainly catching at this flitting form? The cheat that you are seeking has no place. Avert your gaze and you will lose your love, for this that holds your eyes is nothing save the image of yourself reflected back to you. It comes and waits with you; it has no life; it will depart if you will only go.
Nor food nor rest can draw him thence—outstretched upon the overshadowed green, his eyes fixed on the mirrored image never may know their longings satisfied, and by their sight he is himself undone. Raising himself a moment, he extends his arms around, and, beckoning to the murmuring forest; “Oh, ye aisled wood was ever man in love more fatally than I? Your silent paths have sheltered many a one whose love was told, and ye have heard their voices. Ages vast have rolled away since your forgotten birth, but who is he through all those weary years that ever pined away as I? Alas, this fatal image wins my love, as I behold it. But I cannot press my arms around the form I see, the form that gives me joy. What strange mistake has intervened betwixt us and our love? It grieves me more that neither lands nor seas nor mountains, no, nor walls with closed gates deny our loves, but only a little water keeps us far asunder. Surely he desires my love and my embraces, for as oft I strive to kiss him, bending to the limpid stream my lips, so often does he hold his face fondly to me, and vainly struggles up. It seems that I could touch him. ‘Tis a strange delusion that is keeping us apart. Whoever thou art, Come up! Deceive me not! Oh, whither when I fain pursue art thou? Ah, surely I am young and fair, the Nymphs have loved me; and when I behold thy smiles I cannot tell thee what sweet hopes arise. When I extend my loving arms to thee thine also are extended me—thy smiles return my own. When I was weeping, I have seen thy tears, and every sign I make thou cost return; and often thy sweet lips have seemed to move, that, peradventure words, which I have never heard, thou hast returned. No more my shade deceives me, I perceive ‘Tis I in thee—I love myself—the flame arises in my breast and burns my heart—what shall I do? Shall I at once implore? Or should I linger till my love is sought? What is it I implore? The thing that I desire is mine—abundance makes me poor. Oh, I am tortured by a strange desire unknown to me before, for I would fain put off this mortal form; which only means I wish the object of my love away. Grief saps my strength, the sands of life are run, and in my early youth am I cut off; but death is not my bane—it ends my woe.—I would not death for this that is my love, as two united in a single soul would die as one.”
He spoke; and crazed with love, returned to view the same face in the pool; and as he grieved his tears disturbed the stream, and ripples on the surface, glassy clear, defaced his mirrored form. And thus the youth, when he beheld that lovely shadow go; “Ah whither cost thou fly? Oh, I entreat thee leave me not. Alas, thou cruel boy thus to forsake thy lover. Stay with me that I may see thy lovely form, for though I may not touch thee I shall feed my eyes and soothe my wretched pains.” And while he spoke he rent his garment from the upper edge, and beating on his naked breast, all white as marble, every stroke produced a tint as lovely as the apple streaked with red, or as the glowing grape when purple bloom touches the ripening clusters. When as glass again the rippling waters smoothed, and when such beauty in the stream the youth observed, no more could he endure. As in the flame the yellow wax, or as the hoar-frost melts in early morning ‘neath the genial sun; so did he pine away, by love consumed, and slowly wasted by a hidden flame. No vermeil bloom now mingled in the white of his complexion fair; no strength has he, no vigor, nor the comeliness that wrought for love so long: alas, that handsome form by Echo fondly loved may please no more.
But when she saw him in his hapless plight, though angry at his scorn, she only grieved. As often as the love-lore boy complained, “Alas!” “Alas!” her echoing voice returned; and as he struck his hands against his arms, she ever answered with her echoing sounds. And as he gazed upon the mirrored pool he said at last, “Ah, youth beloved in vain!” “In vain, in vain!” the spot returned his words; and when he breathed a sad “farewell!” “Farewell!” sighed Echo too. He laid his wearied head, and rested on the verdant grass; and those bright eyes, which had so loved to gaze, entranced, on their own master’s beauty, sad Night closed. And now although among the nether shades his sad sprite roams, he ever loves to gaze on his reflection in the Stygian wave. His Naiad sisters mourned, and having clipped their shining tresses laid them on his corpse: and all the Dryads mourned: and Echo made lament anew. And these would have upraised his funeral pyre, and waved the flaming torch, and made his bier; but as they turned their eyes where he had been, alas he was not there! And in his body’s place a sweet flower grew, golden and white, the white around the gold.
First published in February 2023, revise and republished in February 2024, 2025
