A small group of us gathered in the freezing rain yesterday to give tribute to the pawpaw trees of Lake Accotink Park. A small grove of pawpaws grow along the trails and creekside that we often walk together in silent meditations.
I set the date of this event following Dana Driscoll’s call on the AODA forum to uphold the UK and North American tradition of wassailing apple trees and orchards on Twelfth Night. And who wouldn’t want to exalt these amazing trees? They give us delicious fruit and have such historically resonant spiritual lore. I was “in” immediately. Ultimately, these rituals are an opportunity to reflect with deep gratitude on the natural abundance in our lives, to offer healing and respect to those beings that in turn sustain us throughout the year. (Dana has written pieces on wassailing and tree blessing traditions that you can read here and here. )
A small group of AODA initiates from around the US (and one from South America) who are active on the AODA’s online forum had agreed that they, too, would undertake a wassail. In that online discussion, Dana had encouraged people to end their rituals by “envision[ing] a network of blessing across North America.” I saw this as a way to share in the work of the global grand grove and further reflect upon Druids doing their work of being in the world–imagine a network of us, holding space for these trees and their many gifts. Imagine the gentle work of our shared calls for peace, for respect, for gratitude, for renewed growth. As above, so below. As within, so without.
Whether you believe in a spiritual existence that hums and thrives below the veil of materiality or not–the simple act of stopping to reflect, to breathe, to say thank you. . . this act of recognizing our place in the greater scheme of things. . . is itself significant. The web of our existences might be reenergized, our own energies reset.
A number of different sources (including Dana’s posts on the AODA forum and linked above) note that the tradition of wassailing in areas of the UK entails choosing a tree, bowing and singing to the tree, and offering cider (and bread!) to the tree. (I’ve included a short list of online references below this article.) Apple trees were enormously valued, in the UK and the Gaelteachd (Gaelic speaking homelands), with the apple symbolizing abundance, sweetness, and the plentitude of fall harvests. The lyrics to the traditional Gàidhlig folksong, “Craobh nan Uabhal,” offers a sense of the reverence some may have felt for these trees and a glimpse into what may have been ancient wassailing practices in the Highlands. The tree was blessed by invoking east and west, the sun, the moon, and the elements.
Craobh nan Ubhal (lyrics with English translation):
Sèist (Chorus):
O chraobh nan ubhal, o (Oh apple tree)
Craobh nan ubhal, geug nan abhull (Apple tree, branch of the apple tree)
O chraobh nan ubhal, o (Oh apple tree)
A quick aside: “Craobh nan Uabhal” is a terrific (and easy!) song to learn in Scottish Gàidhlig. You can hear a traditional version here and a more recently recorded version here (scroll down for track 15).
Our ritual was a little different than traditional wassailing events–for one, we did not have easy access to an apple tree or orchard. (We could have gone to a local “pay-to-pick” orchard, but that just didn’t seem to feel right.) But very quickly, I realized that we did have a number of native fruit bearing trees in our area that might fill in–pawpaw and persimmon, in particular.
And, pawpaw trees had been central to the work of our small group on more than one occasion. My dearest friend Jay had entertained us all with stories of collecting pawpaw fruit for his grandmother and accidentally hitting the fruit of the giant pawpaw with the lawn mower in the front yard of his childhood home. We had foraged wild pawpaw at the Autumn Equinox camping trip we’d gone on and “served” them as one of our contributions to the community potluck.
I had, myself, collected a very small number of the fruit in the small groves we frequented for our Twilight Meditation Walks and I greeted and honored those trees on a frequent basis as I passed them on my solo meditation walks. Indeed, it didn’t seem a hard choice at all to move from the traditional wassail of an apple tree to a wassail of the pawpaws we already love and interact with so frequently.
On the day of, we gathered in our usual spot–undaunted by the bouts of freezing rain. As an auspicious “omen,” a little fracas of fox fur and yapping broke the hushed air of the rain-soaked wood as we walked to our chosen site for the ceremony. My guess: A territorial dispute… was unfolding in the undergrowth to our North. We heard the characteristic shriek “hoooorch-hooooorch-hoooorch” of two foxes for a few ribald moments and, then, watched a juvenile fox (perhaps the intruder who strayed into the wrong territory) lopping away through the undergrowth. Later, one of the group members said she could smell foxes along the trail as we walked–so, perhaps someone was warding away an intruder who strayed too near her den of newborn kits?
We found a deeper quiet as we entered the wood and walked the usual path along the trail. There is something that just hushes and awes me about the winter woods, no less so when the icy rains of December, January, and February fall–gentle and fierce in turns, damping down the autumn leaves and glazing the fern, the downed trees, and the creek bed. The water eddies down the trees from the upper branches, turning the bark of giant and sapling alike black as rich dirt. I found myself turning my face to the sky, the falling rain, over and over–I wanted to drink in the moisture of the air, the chilled freshness of it. It was a perfect day for ritual and mediation.
We chose a medium-sized pawpaw as the center of our working. I opened the ritual by calling upon the peace of the trees of east, south, west, and north–then the peace of the roots and branches of the trees all around us and the peace within our hearts. In our sacred circle, we bowed to the tree and offered cider, apples (cut to show the pentagram at the apple’s core), strong spirits, mugwort, incense, and other sacred items. We each spoke with heartfelt gratitude about the many gifts the pawpaw had given us–from their fruits and their shade and their growth patterns, to the stories that we shared about identifying, collecting, and eating them.
Jay and I (without consulting one another in advance) had both brought pawpaw seeds collected through the year on other outings. We offered these to those in our circle to meditate upon and plant with blessings, gratitude, and reflection upon the possibilities of growth and seasonal renewal. I took several seeds myself. I blessed them and offered thanks to them for the reminder of renewed growth and fruitful possibilities they offered. (Inside of the simple acorn, resides the blueprint of the mighty oak. . . as the saying goes.) I promised these seeds that I would come back to offer further gratitude and care–to watch over them and to see them grow and fruit.
Remarkably, below the layer of leaves. . . up out of the dank earth, tiny green shoots (of ground ivy, I believe) were already showing their faces. . . preparing for the warmer months that are in all actuality just a few weeks away. Shortly, it will be Imbolc, and then the Spring Equinox, then the Summer Solstice. . . the wheel of the year will turn. The area that was, yesterday, sleeping under winter’s mantel, will awaken, green up, lush and verdant. The pawpaw leaves will unfurl, spread like umbrellas, and the whole creekside will be shaded beneath the leafy canopy.
When we returned to the circle, we made our final gifts to the pawpaw and its grove. I closed the circle with thanks to the spirits of the wood, the pawpaw, and the directions. We walked (chatting about mushrooms–one of my favorite topics!–and id-ing the mushrooms we encountered) toward our cars with the promise of warm drinks and a fire pit after. The juvenile fox was waiting in the parking lot. With a bit of side eye, it galloped on lanky legs into a line of trees to the east as we approached.
With deepest gratitude to Dana for the impulse, information, and invitation to join in the tradition of wassailing. . . I will look forward to returning to the pawpaw grove in coming months to see how it grows, how it spreads, and how the seeds planted reveal themselves as further blessings or opportunities for reflection and change. I look forward, too, to hearing about how other people and groups around the North and South American continents have celebrated and wassailed the apple trees and other trees in their lives. Leave a comment here about your own practice, if you like.
H-uile Beannachd. Every blessing.
More Reading
Wassailing through History (Colonial Williamsburg)
http://www.history.org/foundation/journal/holiday06/wassail.cfm
Terhune Orchards Wassail Festival
Historic UK’s “Wassailing” Page
http://www.historic-uk.com/CultureUK/Wassailing/
“Tree Lore: The Apple” on the OBOD Site
http://www.druidry.org/library/trees/tree-lore-apple
Tree of Many Feathers: 