Samhain: The Feast of Apples

I drop a cinnamon stick into the bubbling brew.

Although my feet are solidly planted on the kitchen floor in Savannah, my heart keeps returning to my recent pilgrimage to England. It is the land of my mother, and as I climbed grassy hills, followed crystalline brooks, and meandered across pastures dotted with wooly sheep, I felt that strong pull, the one that says, this is where you’re from.

Here is a photograph of Glastonbury Tor. Perhaps you have read about the magical isle of Avalon, the isle of apples? Glastonbury, associated with the legend of King Arthur, is considered the geography for where Avalon once existed. Mythology tells us Avalon is buried in the mist, or, that we can only access it when the veil is thin. Late in October, as we approach Samhain, the veil grows thinner by the day.

Perhaps poet William Butler Yeats understood the veil best when he wrote:

Come fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!

I experienced the Tor on a misty morning. As my daughter, Hannah, and I climbed to the top, we joined a flock of sheep along the terraced hill in the apple orchard. Wind gusted as we took refuge beneath the apple trees and waited for the rain to stop.

Apples were part of the harvest bounty of Samhain. The Celts believed apples were a sign of immortality, fertility, wisdom, wholeness, and paradise on earth. Apples have been used for divination for centuries. Sleep with an apple under your pillow on Samhain and you will dream of your lover. Pare an apple in one unbroken piece, throw the peel over your left shoulder, and discover the first letter of your future lover’s name. Bury apples to feed the dead.

My father was born on Samhain but here in the States, we grew up calling it Halloween. He recalled childhood birthday parties where he and his friends bobbed for apples and considered it nothing more than a children’s seasonal game. But hundreds of years ago, it was a practice used for courting and foretelling one’s love at Samhain. If a girl captured an apple marked with her lover’s name on the first try, their love was expected to grow, but, if it took several bites to capture the apple, affections dimmed, perhaps even soured, and love’s opportunity was lost.

This is an introspective time of year associated with the dead. Memories of those who have journeyed to the other side are particularly vivid. I slice several apples crosswise to reveal their 5-star pips – the sign of the Goddess — and toss them into the cider. I reduce the violet-blue flame and bring it to a simmer.

May your memories be sweet.