Bluebells herald a magical time of year

WE’RE coming into many people’s favourite time of the year as we move from spring towards summer, even if there’s still a sting in the air.

The month of May, however, invariably brings sunshine and heat to start things growing again.

We see life being renewed all around us following the long, dreary Irish winter, even though we’ve been lucky this year with March and April being so clement.

In the heyday of Gay Byrne’s popular morning radio show, May Day was heralded with an evocative rendering of Queen of the May by Canon Sidney McEwan, something that people looked forward to. Confirmation that summer had arrived.

Talking about religion, it was also a time (in days of our youth) when May altars were made in homes and schools with wild flowers that then seemed to grow everywhere in great profusion.

The vivid memory is of meadows speckled with yellow buttercups, ditches bright with cowslips and woods perfumed with the gentle fragrance of bluebells.

Our teacher in the infant classes, Miss Deedie O’Donohue, now in contented retirement and still tending to her primrose garden, had us out picking bunches of these early summer flowers, with lush green rushes as foliage, that were laid fresh before the classroom altar right through May.

And let’s not forget about daisies, for there’s an saying that if you can cover three daisies with your hand, summer is here.

May was also a time when children went barefoot to school: when the soft, hot tar started to come up between your toes you knew then that, yes, summer was virtually in.

But, you didn’t take off any clothes, being reminded that it could be a chilly month at times with the old saying, ‘cast not a clout till May is out’, being a constant reminder from adults.

They also kept telling us, wisely, that summer definitely did not start until the month of June.

Talking about chills, this is a time when growers of early potatoes are on the lookout for frost which can play havoc with vulnerable, young stalks peeping above the ground.

Frost in May has killed many a promising garden and growers have to use their imaginative powers to combat its destructive effects.

Some cover the stalks with straw, while others are in the habit of getting up soon after dawn and going over all the stalks with a bag to knock the frost off them, believing that the if the frost is removed the sun won’t burn the stalks.

Growers of main crop potatoes don’t have to worry about frost for that crop is often only being sown when early stalks are at high risk.

A deal of folklore also surrounds the month of May. The origin of the word is said to be Roman and there are various theories about it, depending on the scholarship you source.

A general belief, however, is that it comes from the Latin word, maius, meaning month of growth. The Irish name for May, Bealtaine, is often translated as ‘bright fire’ - associated with the lighting of huge bonfires.

May is also one of the most famous pre-Christian festivals that signalled the end of the winter half of the Celtic year.

Piseogs and superstition are also linked to May, including an age-old belief that it is unlucky to get married in May. An aging Scotch clergyman once told his young congregation that girls were ‘all stark mad’ to wed in May.

Soothsayers predicted all manner of evil to those who defied the superstition, with the proverb, ‘marry in May, rue the day’, being common in several countries.

According to the superstition, women disobeying the rule would be childless or, if they had children, the first born would have some disability.

Piseogs were often worked in the Irish countryside during May by people wishing evil on their neighbours.

Still in living memory are some of the traditions on May Day. For example, it was deemed bad luck to give embers from your fire to someone on that day.

Also, you were not supposed to give a drop of milk to anybody and not allow hatching eggs go from one house to the next.

It appears that May Day was a peak time for piseog operators. For instance, if someone entered a farmhouse through the front door, he or she would have to exit through the same door.

Another was that if someone came into a house while milk churning was in progress, that person was not supposed to leave without giving a turn to the churn.

All that, however, has long since passed into folklore.

May, meanwhile, offers excellent opportunities for walking in the countryside, with trees and plants all budding and blooming and a range of birdsong providing a magical choral background in the great outdoors.