Hwæt!

This Saturday past, on my families farm called Eþelæceres in Old
English or Othala Acres in Modern English, we members  of the Asatru
Folk Assembly in New England gathered to hold and celebrate the Holy
Day of Winternights. Known to the ancient English, better known as
Anglo Saxons, as Winterfylleth, it is a Teutonic holiday that has many
related meanings. It is the last of the 'harvest' holidays when the
fields are now left empty. It is the start of Winter. It is a time
when honouring the ancestors becomes more prominent in worship. In
Sweden especially the Alfs(elves) would be worshipped behind closed
doors of barns and homesteads. It is a time for mankind to rebind
themselves together after the summers field work and raids. We cement
those bonds by feasting together in honour of our Holy Gods and
Goddesses. Conductng Symble on the benches of halls and boasting,
oathing and sharing cheer. While Yule is often the height of these
behaviours in popular imagination, we know they go on all year to some
extent for all the holidays. But now those customs begin to be kicked
up a notch, getting ready for the great festivities of the Yuletide.

The day began the night before with my wonderful wife Lily and I
cooking. Preparing meals that would warm the body and soul of people
while being easy to reheat on the day of the event. No one wanted to
spend much time inside cooking while friends, new and old, were about.

Come the day of celebration my parents were the first to arrive. Come
midmorning Thor and Matt Neilsen arrived followed soon after by the
famed Obergs. We got last minute preperations done just in time as
people began to stream in. Heathenfolk from every new England state,
except Maine, had arrived. 40 someodd people were there with happy
faces and open hands. The wondeful thing about the people was that a
good one third of them were new faces. Many holding the Aesir in their
hearts for years but until now had not yet joined in worship with
others. The other 2/3's were longtime friends so there was a very
healthy mix. The introductions got so head spinning that not a few
joked that we should have worn name tags. The majority there were
mebers of the AFA and those not members have learned of the joys and
fellowship being a member can bring. What never ceases to amaze me is
how new comers to the heathen community almost always seem to slip
right in and feel like you have known them for some time. It speaks of
the character of most Heathen folk, old bucks and greenhorns alike.

The day was much cooler than expected but as people talked and
laughted together it just didn't seem as chilly as it really was. I
think the wonderful homebrewed brown ale Aaron Bennet brought may have
been some influence there as well. Some influence both in spreading
cheer and keeping the chill away. Interesting to note was the
assortment of beverage cotainors present filled with Aaron's ale.
There was a beer stein in sight, a german drinking glass and a few of
my pewter glass bottomed tankards. Not to mention the typical plastic
keg cups. Cheese crackers, chips, dip and a hearty chicken soup made
with our own home raised chickens were laid out for people as the
afternoon began.

My forge was cranked up as our old friend Dana Wheeler put on a
demonstration of blacksmithing. I am unsure who got to bang hot metal
but I know at least one other person got in there to strike steel.
There was a circle of people around the forge at all times throughout
the day though. I hope people got some value out of this.

Children were everywhere but never underfoot. Bikeriding, running
through the woods, chicken pestering, sword fighting, wrestling and
making a joyful racket was constant through the day. I believe we had
about 15 youngsters there. I don't believe a single fight had to be
broken up.

Speaking of swordplay, the German Longsword aka western martial arts
clas Mike Smith and I were to put on never wound up happening. It was
almost impossible to break away from the fellowship being shared. If
any are dissapointed, I apologize and Mike and I will make it up to
you. However, in recognition of our folks martial spirit, there was
talk of firearms and of hunting. Many of us there are veterans and
clusters of us spoke of our experiences.

As the afternoon lengthened, the folk were gathered for Mike Smith to
give everyone a rundown of the ritual. Those who never atteneded a
rtual were comforted in knowing what to expect and all were reminded
why we were there. Here at Othala Acres, we always Sith into the grove
where Ingsleigh Hall and the God Posts reside. A Sith is a procession,
a line of folks parading into an area. This was loved by our Anglo
Saxon ancestors and persisted into Victorian times with parading the
boardshead into the halls during Yule. A fellow who goes by the name
of Badger played Cat Burke's bodhran as the Sith into the grove began.
Steady cadence beat as feet followed the path. I broke out my tin
whistle to accompany, but the cold whistle squeaked and was too high
pitched to add much music to the Sith.

Once in the grove, the prelit fire held some chill at bay and smoke
only once or twice made people face away for air. Mike Smith led the
Alf rite which started with the children shaking the iron wrangle to
chase away any ill wights.Grain was burned to the ancestors as the
blotbowl, full of oats, was brought around the gathered folk. Empty
hands scooped into the deep bowl, full hands topped with grain came
out of the deep bowl to toss oats in the fire for a votive offering.
Next came the other bowl, full of mead which Cat Burke sprinkled the
folk with the holy honey drink. The mood was sober and respectful, a
marked difference from the smiles and laughter of a few short minutes
beforehand as children shook the wrangle and raced around the fire at
breakneck speed.  However it was not a dire or sour mood, it was the
mood of men and women who were here for a purpose and the purpose was
now. The honouring of our heavenly Gods and Goddesses, ancestors and
holy wights. As Mike Smith offered the last of the oats into the fire,
he ended the rite. It took a few moments for people to move, the rite
had to finish sinking in first. As it sunk in though, the laughter
began.

It was at this time that some horseback riding occured, but only a few
had the pleasure to ride. The horses were moody and it is better to be
safe and bow out of the riding than have someone get hurt.

The forge was riniging out again and the food for Husel, the sacral
feast was getting heated and laid out.  Sausage and penne by Lily,
home made mac and cheese by the Bennets, antpasto by Badger, swedish
meatballs, squash, rutebager, apple crisp, rabbit and dumplings,
without the dumpling, fried rabbit(from our farm), homemade mozzerella
cheese by Amanda all graced the table. My youngest daughter Ingrid
blew a blowing horn a few times and once the attention was gotten of
the folk, I announced those words people love to hear from me so much.
"The Husel is now served! Let us eat and be merry!' I bellowed and the
folk came in to eat. It all went so fast that I was lucky that Lily
remembered to make a God-plate to lay outside.

Once Husel was winding down, Stephanie had finished cleaning and
setting up Ingsleigh Hall for Symble. She does a remarkable job and I
am fortunate my cousin does this for me.

A fire was lit in the woodstove of the Hall and people began to
trickle in. They came in so fast there was no time to do a ceremonial
hand washing before Symble as they came in, but that is ok. It was
cold outside by now and the fire in the grove outside the doors of the
Hall gave little comfort. Especially when the warm glow of candles and
light promised the heat of the Hall to the folk without. In the Hall
was safety and community while outside is unknown. It is no wonder the
monster Grendel hated the bright hall Herot so much.

It was now, with my parents beside me on the meadbench that I kept the
electric lights on for a moment. The famous Rick Oberg said a few
words to again remind us of the joys of the Asatru Folk Assemly and
intoduced the local folk builders to those who knew not the names or
faces.

Then before we turned off the electric lights and let the Hall be lit
by cancles only as in eldern days, I asked for three cheers for our
AFA Leader Stephen McNallen. I sounded  'hip hip' and a resounding
"hooray!"  filled the hall, a second 'hip hip' was followed by a
second, louder "hooray!' A third 'hip hip' boomed out of my mouth and
the hall thundered 'Hooray!' That set the mood. There would be joy and
gothi McNallen was honoured.

Writing of Symble never catches the mood of the rite but the horn went
round, carried by Stephanie's capable hands filled with mead from the
Bennets. Gods hailed, ancestors hailed, heros and kin remembered and
honoured. Aaron gifted his wife Sarah an anniversary present and a 9
week old babe was informally presented to the gathered folk. Einar
sang a song of sheep in Icelandic while I had to sing an old English
pub tune. I was so proud to have my parents beside me on the bench as
we wound up Symble and ended the right. Some folks went to the fire
outside and some went back to the house. Others stayed in the hall to
participate in gebeorscip, or beer-shit as some of us like to joke. It
is informal drinking. More than just a party, but nothing like the
holyness of Symble. It is fellowship over beers. Tim Nicole, Stephanie
and I sang numerous songs and bits of songs. All things end and so did
this Winterfylleth celebration. There was a steady loss of people from
the farm as people had to wend the way home in the dark of night. All
too soon bed called and the last of the farewells were spoken and
embraces given out.

The year turns and light turn dark, as it always does, but the warmth
in the hearts of those who came will sustain us for some time. Our
Aesir, ancestors and allied holy wights were honured as they were in
ancient days and all is right and good. The New England AFA
Winternights was a joyful success.

The haleful folk made it so.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thorquabbin/sets/72157622440386085/show/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/vinterulf/sets/72157622438687843/show/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Teutoburg_Forest

wassail

In the year 9 Common Era, most likely from the ninth to the eleventh of September, Hermann the Cheruscan led an army of warriors of many Germanic tribes in battle against Roman legions seeking to expand into the Germanic heartland. This army of mixed Germanic warriors annihilated three Roman legions, six cohorts of auxiliiary troops and three squadrons of cavalry in their bid to secure independence from Rome's domination.

In defeating Rome's armies, Hermann the Cheruscan forced Rome to forever forsake occupying Germania and changed the course of history. Often it is listed among the most influencial battles in history.

Raise a horn to Hermann the Cheruscan and his warriors on each of these next few nights.

cheers

We goty our Border Leicester ram in February. Put him with our icelandic ewes and wether. Figured that'd give us Augst lambs. Pretty late to be lambing, but not a dangerous time to lamb either. I noticed yesterday that erla, the only ewe that got preggers, was standing aruond a bit and sticking her tail straight out like she was going to poop, but never did. This week is also about when she should be giving birth.Her udders have been really really swolen. I noted it to Lily and we watched a moment and then went about chores.
I got focused on the fox and setting the trap and forgot about erla acting like she was ready to lamb. Also Lily was headed out to do one of her Temptation Party's so wrap it all up with getting Edward and Ingrid and myself fed and I forgot about Erla completely. Fortunatly LIly had the party to run so I was up waiting for her instead of snoozing. I had an ear cocked for the fox trap to snap shut. Dream on Ron. When it was almost midnight, I heard Erla baaa. Now unless the sheep are hungry or get seperated from each other, they don;t usually baa. Especially at almost midfnight. It was also a different quality baa. Lower and a bit longer. I heard a second one a few minutes later and the dogs started barking. I kept them inside and went to check on erla. well, the other sheep were out and about and erla was laying half on her side but with her head up. I could see somehting sticking out of her vulva. Yeppers, as I got closer, I could see it was a head. Head was almost all the way out. Now when a lamb births, the front hooves are supposed to be forward, under it's snout. Like it is flying, or diving. If the legs aren't forward in front of the head, the lamb is not positioned right and things may go badly. I noted the lamb wasn;t looking or anything so I touched it's mouth with  my fngers and she started to lick. OK, I knew she was alive in there.
So being the good farmer, I straddled Erla and stuck my fingers in her around the lambs head until I could feel front hooves. Once I found them, I was able to pull them forward under the snout. So now the head was fully out with the two front hooves out too, under the snout, like she was heady to dive out. Once that happpened, she delivered normally in less than 3 minutes. As the baby lamb touched mther earth, Lily pulled into the driveway coming back from doing her party. Perfect timing. She raced on over, then went inside to get  the birthing kit. Erla was cleaning off her lamb and the lamb was alert and trying to stand. Lily snipped the cord, dipped it in iodine and made sure the milk was flowing from momma. No problems. Erla cleaned up her lamb, lamb started drinking and all was well. Placenta was delivered and we stayed up to make sure the lamb did not have a sibling coming, which she didn't.
Here are a picture of last night after tha lamb was born and a couple of Edward and INgrid holdnig the lamb this morning. They nearly exploded with excitement when I told them we had a baby lamb this morning. Oh yeah, I shaved my beard in case you don;t recognize me.

This is actually from an Old Farmer Almanac email they send out regularly!

Lammas Day—
August 1
Lammas Day marks the beginning of the harvest. In old England, loaves of bread were baked from the first-ripened grain, consecrated in churches, and eaten.

From the Old English hlaf, “loaf,” and maesse, “mass” or “feast,” Lammas is very old indeed.

It derives from the ancient English festival called the Gule of August, which marked the beginning of the harvest, traditionally August 1. The early English church kept this pagan dedication of the first fruit but converted it to Christian usage.

Through the centuries, “loaf-mass” became corrupted in spelling and pronunciation to Lammas.

After Lammas Day, corn ripens as much by night as by day.