The Humble Bramble British Superstitions Part Four #HazardousToYourSanity
It’s that time of year again. It’s the ‘season
of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ which, when I was a kid, meant blackberrying.
My grandparents had a huge stand of cultivated blackberries or brambles which
were picked relentlessly, by the local bird and squirrel population as well as
us, and supplied several dozen jars of jam to see my grandfather’s serious jam
habit through the winter. Being a superstitious family, all blackberrying
stopped on 29th September, Michaelmas, or St Michael’s Day.
Apparently when Lucifer fell
from heaven, he was thrown out by St Michael and landed in a bramble bush. Out
of spite, the devil goes around and spits on all blackberries on Michaelmas,
which seems a little petty to me, but who am I to judge. A more polite version which
my mother used was that the devil puts his foot in the blackberries on that
date which seems even more effort to make a point.
I heard it explained as there were frosts
at that time of year so any blackberries after that date wouldn’t be fit for
food. That seemed a little strange to me as around my home in Yorkshire the
first frosts rarely come before November. There are often a lot of blackberries
left, but it may be that they were pretty picked over by that time. It could be
that they’re leaving the remaining blackberries for the local wildlife. Perhaps
it’s even that the weather is drawing in and there’s too much else to do with
the last of the harvest to get in and correctly stored. Without freezers or
sugar, blackberries don’t store well but the apples that are coming in at the
same time do store, along with the pears, quinces and any nuts that can be
found.
When I was looking at the superstitions
around blackberries, I saw one site that swore that blackberries should only be
picked after 29th September. I was sceptical. It sounded to
me like someone was protecting their best patches. I also saw a note that
brambles were planted on graves to stop the dead from getting out. I’ve been
entangled by brambles enough to believe that they’d be a great barrier, but perhaps
it was more to keep any grazing animals away. Besides, my experience of
brambles is that you may mean to plant a small sprig on a grave but give it a
year and the entire cemetery would be waist deep in the stuff so perhaps that’s
not a common superstition. Superstitions are all very well, but brambles are
relentless.
I also found a tempting recipe for ablackberry liqueur on the Woodland Trust’s page. They picked some blackberries,
added sugar and covered with whisky. They left it for a while, strained it and
consumed. This is my sort of recipe. Personally I would use vodka or brandy
instead of whisky and perhaps throw in a cinnamon stick while the fruit was
steeping. I haven’t tried it, but I may have a go next year - or cheat if I can find some frozen blackberries.
As a writer, it’s always good to wonder
about why a superstition is in place. Michaelmas was a good date to choose for
this particular turn of the country year. It was the start of a quarter when
rents would be paid and it would be celebrated in Church so would be well known
to the community. Picking soft fruit, like blackberries, would be more of a
summer pastime. Or perhaps, in a fantasy story, the fruit really is cursed. I can’t
help but wonder how that would work.
2 comments
I loved picking blackberries as a kid.
REPLYThere's something about picking blackberries that can draw you in
REPLY